Rise of the Black Dogs
by Roadkill1992
Summary: There's an old trucker's tale about a Black Dog that appears when a driver's gone too far. It comes to take everything from you in punishment. For a princess searching for redemption, that tall tale could grant her wish. For one tyrannical emperor, that ghost story is about to come horrifyingly true...
1. Chapter 1: Black Dogs and Britannians

_(Roadkill here, pretties! I'm taking a little hiatus from Feet First! in order to keep it fresh. Plus I've got an idea I want to run with for a little while and I can't seem to concentrate on my flagship fic while this is bouncing around inside my skull. I promise I'll release more Feet First! soon enough, but for now please enjoy this little sideshow._

_So, preface. My idea involves an AU of Code Geass in which three things are different from the original show. First, the United States existed before the Holy Britannian Empire but was conquered by said empire just after the Revolutionary War. Second, the descendants of the United States have called themselves the Confederate Resistance Front and have become a nation of rebels currently in control of Antarctica, living in cities built under the ice cap. And third, in the final battle, Lelouche lost. Schnizel is now the ninety-ninth emperor of the Empire. Cornelia has been leading a small band of resistance fighters (the ones seen in the final episode of Code Geass) against her brother. Britannia pretty much has the entire world by the short ones at this point._

_The exception to this complete and total world domination is the nation that hardly anyone knows exists. Any who approach Antarctica vanish, even entire fleets. This is because the CRF has created a counter to Knightmares and sakuradite technology: biometal tech. Biometal (from the 1998 PC game Battlezone, the Nintendo64 port Battlezone: Rise of the Black Dogs, the expansion The Red Odyssey, and the sequel Battlezone II: Combat Commander. Biometal is a highly adaptable material that can be altered to form nearly anything: armor plates, delicate airfoils, heat shielding, engine components, and even the windows of a vehicle. It can also be used to form anti-gravity lifters, which is what makes the hovertanks possible. That same tech is applied to the CRF's carriers, which are (in this fic) comparable to Britannian flying battleships._

_I ought to make this clear: I will be using modded versions of Battlezone II for my reference material. Why? Because I'm a modder, been doing it since I was eleven. Plus I want there to be some variety in the CRF units. Therefore we'll have the silver-painted Home Fleet units, the yellow Black Dog craft, the black Raven's Claw Elite Guard, and the plain orange CRF regular forces. The mods I will be basing things off of are as follows:_

_BZ2 EPIC Mod (created by the late, great Slaor. Rest in peace, good buddy!) for pretty much everything._

_Fleshstorm (created by Lizard) for the Black Dog units and properties_

_Fleshstorm 2: The Harvest (created by BigBadBogie) for the Raven's Claw Elite Guard_

_Forgotten Enemies (the Battlezone II Community Project) for the EDF paint schemes (for the Home Fleet in my fic) and two units._

_Also, I am not a fan of BZ2's lack of small arms. The best you get is a rocket launcher or a pulse rifle that also acts as a sniper weapon. While I will keep the pulse rifle, I will be requisitioning some new weapons for the CRF foot soldiers. I'm going to use the non-alien weapons from the Ballistic Weapons mod for Unreal Tournament 2004 as a source of inspiration. A shout out goes to RuneStorm, because their mod is amazing. Plus it's a perfect blend of traditional weapons (such as the M50, a next-gen version of the venerable M16) and more futuristic tools of warfare that would fit perfectly with the Code Geass level of tech (such as the Tactical Infantry Cannon, a man-portable railgun cannon capable of punching right through a tank.)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Battlezone, Battlezone II, or Code Geass. BZ is a trademark of Atari, Activision, and Pandemic Studios. C.G. is a trademark of… someone. Not me. I gain no profit from writing this other than my own personal enjoyment and the sick sexual thrill I get from writing scenes of carnage and chaos.)_

_**Chapter I: Black Dogs and Britannians…**_

"My report is titled 'The History of the Black Dog Battalion and Its Role in Confederate History," a young boy said. The child, a blond boy with sparkling green eyes and a cheerful face, was standing before his fourth-grade class and reading from the paper he'd written. "From the beginning of our nation, the Black Dog Battalion has been important to our people's fates. They were formed from the religious 'Order of the Black Dog,' a sect of Catholicism that teaches honor and courage in battle as the path to Heaven. In 1778, when the United States of America won its independence from England, the newly-formed Holy Britannian Empire made its own offensive on the new nation. Unfortunately for the United States of America, their battle-weary forces could not resist the fresh and far richer armies of the Empire. In one year the tiny Empire consumed the United States of America. During the final days of war the Order of the Black Dog was hired to back the USA's own armies while the people still loyal to the dying nation fled westward. The Order fought time and time again and sometimes singlehandedly prolonged the life of the American rebels. Eventually they were assimilated into the armies of the uprooted nation as the world's first true special forces unit.

"The United States of America re-branded itself the Confederated Resistance Front. The nation eventually settled on the North and South islands of New Zealand. It was there that the Confederacy remained largely hidden from the world for many years. Fearing discovery and an attack from Britannia, the Confederacy began to create military installations beneath the ice of Antarctica for the purpose of researching new weapons systems. It was here that biometal, the basis of all of our technology, was invented. The biometal research made our modern military weapons, like hovertanks and mobile unit factories, possible. Biometal tanks made the colonization of Antarctica a much quicker and easier process and helped prepare a fighting force that could hold its own against the Knightmare Frames developed by Britannia.

"It was here that the Confederacy made a critical mistake. They revealed themselves to two other nations: the Chinese Federation and the United Soviet Socialist Republics. A treaty was drawn up: the U.S.S.R. and China would each loan the Confederacy a large army, and in return that army would bring back biometal technology. Each force quickly adapted the biometal technology to their own specifications, resulting in well-known variants such as the nimble Flanker scout craft and the venerable Czar tanks used by the U.S.S.R. and the deadly Naga light tanks and gun-heavy Adder mobile turrets created by the Chinese Federation. But spies within the U.S.S.R. passed the knowledge of the Confederacy and its biometal technology to Britannia, and in 2011 the South Island of New Zealand came under attack.

"A Britannian fleet under the command of Princess Cornelia li Britannia launched a surprise assault during a winter storm in December of 2011. Using the storm for cover, the Britannian forces launched a massive attack against the largest of the three main naval shipyards on the Southern Island. In the time it took the nearby Soviet outpost to respond the entire shipyard was under Britannian control. The Britannians were able to use the shipyard as a staging area for the rest of their forces, which consisted of well over seventy thousand troops plus more than twelve thousand Knightmare Frames.

"The fighting raged on as the Southern Island was lost to the Britannians. However, by the time the enemy reached the Northern Island the Confederate forces had pulled together a strong defense that would allow most of the civilians to be evacuated. The battle, which was fought in multiple areas along a single front, was a costly one for both sides. But eventually only one district remained to be evacuated. It was here that the Black Dog Battalion showed their true strength. In order to buy time, Commander Roland Harris led a total of forty Black Dog units into the face of the oncoming Britannian army. Those forty men and women held off the entire attacking force long enough for the remaining Confederate forces and civilians to be evacuated. Once the evacuations were complete Commander Harris ordered his units to scatter out over the ocean. This action gave the Britannians no plausible vector to search upon. The Black Dogs managed to simultaneously secure their own safety and the secrecy of the Antarctica colonies, although at a steep cost. Of the forty brave men and women that first engaged the Princess and her Knights only twelve survived the battle.

"Returning to Antarctica wouldn't be the homecoming they'd expected though. The Black Dogs almost immediately found themselves embroiled in a three-way civil war between the remaining Soviet, Chinese, and Confederate forces. The war would have been a long and bloody one had the Black Dogs not stepped in and simultaneously crushed the ranking Chinese and Soviet officers and their guards. From then on all forces were assimilated into the Confederate Defense Forces.

"In the end, the Black Dog Battalion has been the key to our nation's survival for more than two hundred years. Although they have left the center stage for right now, there can be no doubt that their forces will always be there to protect the people of the Confederacy when our enemies threaten us."

The teacher smiled, pleasantly surprised by her students report. "That was very good James, although I am a bit surprised at your choice in subject matter. If I might ask, why did you choose to do your report on the Black Dog Battalion? And why did you decide to leave out the Braddock Scandal?" The young boy's face went red at his teacher's words.

"Because! Braddock was a bad man but the Black Dogs were just trying to do what was best! My brother's a Black Dog and I know he wouldn't do something bad like that!" The boy sounded hysterical, prompting the teacher to usher him out into the hallway. As the two left a girl in the class that looked very much like the emotional boy stared down at her desk, tears welling up in her eyes.

0o0o0

An enormous warship hung in the air over the Antarctic coast, reflecting sunlight off of its yellow-painted hull. The sixteen-hundred-foot airship was a boxy shape akin to a train engine. The name of this ship, the _Midnight Angel,_ was painted on its flank near the bow. Its flat nose and bulky construction gave the impression that the ship was slow and lumbering, but in fact it was neither. It could easily outrun and outmaneuver comparable Britannian warships, which had led to the ship scoring a number of successful kills in various skirmishes. Of course, Britannia never knew what happened to their missing ships and soldiers. All they knew was that Antarctica was a no-fly zone for them, because nothing that ever went down there ever came back.

Within one of the ship's massive hangar bays were a number of vehicles in various holding stations. They varied in shapes and sizes but they all had two things in common. First, all but two red hulls at one end were painted a dull yellow and bore the same emblem: a snarling dog's head and red collar over a yellow circle. The second was their condition. Many of the craft were riddled with bulletholes, burn marks, and other damage. On top of that they were all absolutely filthy, each one stained with grime and dirt and soot from long years of fighting.

A small group of pilots dressed in lightly-armored yellow flight suits were working on their respective rides in the hangar, chatting idly as they did so. The vehicles they were working on were all the same model: the HS-04 "Thunderbolt" scout hovertank. These Thunderbolts had a somewhat triangular body, twin guns mounted beneath metal shrouds on either side of the cockpit, a glass canopy that slid forward along the body to allow the pilot to enter and exit, and a rather large turbine engine near the back. There were also four stubby stabilizer wings mounted on movable arms to help with stability and maneuvering.

One of the Black Dog pilots stood at the side of his vehicle, running his hand over the hull fondly. This man, of average height and slender build, had a pair of bright green eyes beneath a mess of sand-colored hair. He had the insignia of a captain on his collar and his wrists. His ride was more beat-up and dirtier than the rest, having seen even harsher combat than the rest during its lifetime. The captain didn't care, however. His ride was his best friend. Even now, as the craft was pushing five years old, the captain was still trying to keep the machine in the best operating condition he could. Five years may not be a long time, but those five years had been filled with insurrections and skirmishes against the ever-probing Britannian forces who couldn't figure out why none of their Antarctic expeditions ever reported in after they approached the icy continent. The Thunderbolt showed signs of

As the crew worked on their respective vehicles, one of the pilots approached the captain. She was a tall woman with jet-black shoulder-length hair and icy blue eyes. A long scar ran across her throat and there were several burns on her face, including ones hidden behind an eyepatch she wore over her left eye. Of the entire squad, only the captain had seen more combat than she had. She was also the lowest-ranking of the original twelve survivors of New Zealand, being a First Lieutenant.

"Captain," the woman said. "Shouldn't you be on shore leave right now?"

The captain turned to his second-in-command. Like her, he was also a member of the New Zealand Twelve. The battles they'd shared had built a strong friendship between the two warriors. "Like you have any room to talk," he said. "Aren't you supposed to be a newlywed?"

"Duty comes first," the woman said, although her cheeks did turn a very faint shade of pink. "David knows I've got an important job to do."

"Some important job," the captain grumbled, turning back to his ride. "We've been on patrol for a week now with nothing to show for it but a Britannian fishing boat that got lost." The captain shook his head and leaned against his vehicle. Near his arm his name could be seen written just below the track for the ship's sliding canopy: Captain Lincoln McHale.

"That fishing boat was just as much a threat as the Great Britannia itself would have been. If they'd gotten back to shore they would have told someone about us and then we'd be screwed." The woman, a former Britannian of noble birth whose name was Miranda Caldwell, leaned against her own ship. She'd fled Britannia as a young girl, afraid for her life after her parents were killed in a political assassination. Lincoln's parents had hidden her for several years and had eventually gotten her papers as a Confederate citizen. She'd joined the Black Dogs immediately after hearing that Lincoln, who had been her closest (and sometimes only) companion as a child, had enlisted. She was older than him by two years but still looked up to him as an older-brother figure as well as her commanding officer and closest friend.

"Wish the Gamma Bravo would show up," Link complained. "I could use a good fight."

As if answering his wishes alarms began to sound through the hangar bay. A woman's voice sounded over the PA system. "Cobra Wing scramble! Repeat, Cobra Wing scramble! We have a cargo ship with Britannian military markings approaching the coastline at full speed!"

"You know the drill!" Lincoln roared to the other pilots. "Get these tanks topside, NOW!"

Each of the pilots ran for their respective vehicles and climbed into the cockpits, double-checking their engine and storage compartments as they went. As their canopies began to close the five Thunderbolt scouts of Cobra Wing were lifted into the air on magnetic tracks. The tracks took them to the launch bay, a massive chamber set into the side of the carrier that could easily hold several large aircraft. The launch bay was near the top of the ship, making it harder for enemy Knightmares to board the ship as well as making it easier for their own transport pilots to land on the carrier.

The five Thunderbolts moved towards the door of the launch bay. The noise of their oversized turbine engines filled the chamber, causing the windows of the fight control center to rattle. Lincoln, in the lead ship, gave his instruments a once-over before slipping on his helmet. "This is Cobra Lead," he said over his helmet radio. "All systems green."

"Cobra Two, all green here," Miranda said over her own comm.

"Cobra Three, green and very mean!"

"Cobra Four, all green."

"Cobra Five, green across the board."

"We're one hundred feet from the surface, Cobra Wing," the woman in the control center said. "You're go for launch, Cobra!"

"Ten-four," Link said. "Alright people, let's get this over with. Launch!"

The five Thunderbolts all fired their engines, rocketing forward out of the launch bay. They hung in the air for a few seconds then plummeted towards the ocean. Each ship hit the water and partially submerged before bouncing back up and settling to their usual hovering height of three feet from the ground. Their stabilizer wings extended and narrowed, providing maximum control for high-speed maneuvers. They streaked off across the water towards their objective like a pack of wolves hunting a wounded elk.

0o0o0

Cornelia li Britannia stood on the deck of her stolen transport, watching the horizon. She was a fairly tall woman of great beauty, as expected of a Britannian princess. Her dark pink hair cascaded down her back in a sort of messy elegance, occasionally blowing in the wind that blew around the vessel. She wore her usual attire of a maroon suit with gold accents. Her sharp, intelligent violet eyes scanned the waves ahead, searching for any sign of her objective.

Her objective… The thought of what she was doing out here made even the once-unshakeable Witch of Britannia nervous. Ever since the final battle over Area 11 she had been nervous, but with what she was facing now it bordered on fear.

She'd been horrified to find that the battle had ended in the favor of her elder brother Schneizel el Britannia. Her younger brother Lelouche had been killed in the battle and any who had sided with him had been captured. Even worse, once Schneizel had won the battle he'd turned on his allies, the Black Knights, and imprisoned them as well as the various representatives of the United Federation of Nations. In doing so he'd taken care of anyone who might have stood against him, and with the threat of his vast arsenal of F.L.E.I.J.A. warheads that could be used to destroy any city or target at any point in the world at any given time, the world had quickly fallen under his control. The Holy Britannian Empire now quite literally controlled the world, and their Emperor would do whatever he felt he had to do to protect his position as the ruler of the world.

The few survivors that hadn't been captured had banded together under Princess Cornelia, but their resistance had been little more than basic survival and the occasional theft. Their hope was dwindling by the day, and Cornelia was unsure of how to proceed. At least, she was until she received a message from her fallen brother.

The message was delivered in the form of a video disk carried by one of her brother's subordinates, Lord Jeremiah Gottwald. Gottwald had left after delivering the message and had simply vanished, presumably joining another resistance group or else hiding out on his own. The video on the disk was of Lelouche, recorded during the final battle at the Damocles.

0o0o0

_(Flashback)_

_ With shaking hands the former Second Princess of Britannia slid the disk into a small player on the table beside her bunk and pressed play. The image of her brother Lelouche, a dark-haired teen with the same violet eyes as herself appeared on the screen. Lelouche was in the cockpit of his Knightmare and it was clear that things were not going well for him._

_ "Cornelia, listen to me," he said as he maneuvered his craft through the battle. "I know you have no reason to trust me after all that has transpired, but every word I am about to tell you is true. I swear it on the blood of my sister Nunnally and my mother Marianne the Flash. All of this was for Nunnally's sake. Every bit of it, even Euphie's death. Now that Schneizel is going to win this battle I can't finish my plan, but he can do it for me._

_ "The plan was to take the Damocles and take the world hostage. Then, when the hatred of every living person was focused solely on myself, I was going to have myself killed by a new Zero, thus leaving the world with nothing to hate and completely united, ending the need for all wars and creating a new, gentler world for her to live in. Unfortunately Schneizel won't have the decency to die like I would have. Once I have fallen his victory will be assured, but when he takes this world over he will take the place I would have had and do exactly what I would have done._

_ "Dear sister, you must be the one to kill him! I know your heart would never allow his ways, even against the Numbers you look down on. And I know you won't let Nunnally's nightmare continue any further. I believe in you, Cornelia. That is why I am going to tell you exactly how to win._

_ "Eight years ago, right after Britannia attacked Japan and established it as Area 11, you took part in a campaign against a certain rebel nation that had taken over New Zealand. You destroyed them and their technology, seemingly permanently. But in my work as Zero I have found traces of their nation. I believe them to be hiding on or near Antarctica. Did you ever notice how no campaign or expedition to that place is ever successful?_

_ "Find the ghosts of the Confederacy, Cornelia! Find them and save Nunnally! I know I have no right to ask this of you but I am. Please, don't let the lives taken in this war be in vain!" At that moment the cockpit of the Knightmare filled with a fireball for an instant before the video ended in a screen that said "Signal Lost, End of Recording."_

0o0o0

The Confederacy…

Cornelia's thoughts went back to that day all those years ago, the day she'd fought their Black Dog battalion. Her vast army had been halted by a mere forty hovercraft, only a handful of which had survived to flee. The end of that battle had always bugged her. It was clear that they had fled, but try as she might she could not find any trace of where they had fled to. One of their tanks had turned up in a residual skirmish after the establishment of Area 11, but the wrecked vehicle held no clues as to the whereabouts of the others.

The princess had, of course, been skeptical of her younger brother's message. After all he was Zero, the masked man who led the terrorist organization The Black Knights in a bloody campaign against Britannia, even going so far as to murder two of the royal family. But there were few options left to her resistance and they all knew it. So they'd gotten a cargo ship and as many Knightmare Frames together as they could then set off towards Antarctica, the Britannian army hot on their heels.

She looked down at the white gloves she had on over her hands. In one hand she held a photo of a dark-haired man of her own age. The man, her personal knight Gilbert Guilford, had been killed during their escape from Area 11. The loss had shaken Cornelia more than anything else in this war, even more than the loss of her sister Euphemia at the hands of Zero.

She put her other hand over the photo, closing her eyes momentarily. "Guilford," she whispered. "We will end this, you have my word."

The whine of jet engines caught her ear and she opened her eyes once more. She could see five small shapes approaching over the water, each one throwing up a rooster-tail of water behind it as it approached. 'So Lelouche was right,' she thought. 'Time to see if he was telling me the truth about the rest.' She turned to face the cabin of the cargo ship, where the rest of her resistance was gathered. "Raise the white flag!" she yelled.

Another woman, a dark-skinned Britannian woman with long silver hair, came from the cabin and began raising a white flag on the ships flagpole. Two more people came from the cabin as well: a short Chinese woman with her hair braided on either side of her head and tied in loops like earrings and a Japanese man with a red headband and glasses. The four of them gathered on the deck and stood side-by-side, their ship slowing and eventually coming to a halt in the icy water.

Two of the small hovercraft, which were not of any design Cornelia had seen during the battle in New Zealand, began to circle the cargo ship. The other three quite literally jumped into the air and came to a halt on the deck of the ship. One stayed hovering above the deck while the other two settled down on their running plates, their canopies sliding open and their pilots exiting the craft. Cornelia recognized the insignia on each of the craft. It was the same force she'd fought against in New Zealand, the Black Dog Battalion.

"Black Dogs," she said. "We come peacefully! I am Cor.."

"I know who you are, Witch of Britannia." One of the pilots pulled off his helmet and tossed it aside, revealing a mess of sandy hair and dazzling green eyes. The man held a bulky rifle, which was pointed directly at the former princess. "How the hell could I ever forget you?"

"Have we met?" Cornelia asked cautiously.

0o0o0

_(Flashback)_

_ Lincoln McHale watched as one of the nearby Grizzly main battle tanks of his unit went up in smoke. He'd lost count of how many of their comrades had been slain on this battlefield, but he knew one thing for damn sure: the Britannians were NOT getting past him._

_ He could see hundreds of their dark-colored Knightmare Frames, those ridiculous-looking robots that had taken the world by storm, in the flashes of gunfire and explosions. Each Knightmare consisted of a head, a torso built around a large boxy pod that contained the pilot, and arms and legs. The things moved quickly thanks to their Landspinners, wheeled arms that folded down from their ankles and acted in a similar manner to roller skates. Each one was equipped with a large rifle and a pair of rocket-propelled anchors called Slash Harkens that could be used for offense, defense, or mobility._

_ One of the Knightmares, however, was different. It had a different style of head on it, purple trim on its armor, and carried a large lance in addition to its rifle. This was the commanding officer, and she was a badass if ever there was one._

_ "It's the Princess!" someone yelled over the comms._

_ "I see her," another voice said, the voice of Link's father. "I'm on her! Ryan, back me up!"_

_ "Got it, Pa!" This voice belonged to Link's brother._

_ "It's Lieutenant!"_

_ Two of the hovertanks, a gun-heavy Grizzly and a rocket-launching Wolverine, went after the Princess's Knightmare. Link, piloting a jetfighter-like Razor equipped with twin 20mm machine guns and a rack of thirty Shadower image-guided missiles, followed as well. He would reach the battle too late, however._

_ His father's Grizzly went down first. Cornelia caught the hovertank with one of her Harkens and dragged it to herself before stabbing through its cockpit with her lance. The tank exploded on the end of her weapon and she continued on, easily dodging the slower Hornet heat-seeking missiles from Ryan's rocket tank. A barrage of gunfire was enough to cause one of the Wolverine's missiles to explode in its launch tube, resulting in a chain reaction that tore the smaller hovertank to ribbons._

_ Neither pilot had been able to eject._

_ Lincoln screamed in fury, firing everything he had at the Knightmare Frame before him. The princess barely had time to dodge the oncoming Razor, which quickly doubled back and came at her again. The two danced a deadly dance amid grenades and bullets from the Knightmare and bullets and missiles from the Razor. Another nimble Razor darted in to help but was hit by a stray rifle-launched grenade from Cornelia, causing the ship to crash into a rocky outcropping. _

_ Link maneuvered his Razor in between his downed comrade and the enemy, glaring up at her through the shattered canopy of his ride. He was out of bullets and only had one missile left. What was worse was that Cornelia had gotten a number of good hits on his ride and managed to blow out one of his thrusters. He was still mobile, just very slow._

_ Cornelia had taken damage as well. Her Knightmare's cockpit had been ripped open by a hail of gunfire and a missile, revealing the pilot herself to the Black Dog. The two glared at each other, both knowing that a continued fight would result in their deaths._

_ "L-Link!" Miranda coughed over the radio from the cockpit of the crashed Razor._

_ "You win this one, Princess," Link said over his ship's PA. "But I swear to God, I'm going to find you someday and I'm going to kill you."_

_ "Likewise, rebel scum! I will wait for you!" the Princess said, backing her Knightmare off and leaving the battlefield._

0o0o0

Link hardly dared believe his eyes. Here before him, surrendering to him without a fight, was the woman he hated more than anything in the world. Cornelia vi Britannia had just handed herself over. His heart raced in his chest. All it would take would be a squeeze of the trigger and his pulse rifle would send a concentrated high-power microwave beam through the princess's head. The beam would boil away flesh and bone, punching a hole all the way through her then dissipating before the wound could cauterize from the heat of the beam. He could avenge his father and brother and all of the Black Dogs that had fallen at her hand. All he had to do was squeeze…

"You're goddamn right we've met, Cornelia. We met in battle, where you killed my father and my brother." Lincoln's voice sparked some recognition in the princess's eyes. She had never known that the pilots she'd killed were related, but she now recognized the voice from that night eight years ago.

"It was you," she whispered. "You're the one in that smaller machine, the one who vowed to kill me."

"Yup," Link said. "Guess you got tired of waiting for me and decided to end it yourself. Works for me, bitch." His finger tightened down on the trigger.

"I won't deny you the chance to kill me," Cornelia said. "But I ask that you listen to what I have to say first."

"And why should I?" Link asked.

"I imagine you're a proud warrior, correct?" the former Princess said. "What if I offered you the chance to watch the former Second Princess of Britannia beg your commanders on her knees for assistance?"

Link and the other pilot, Miranda, looked at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter. "And what," Link asked, "makes you think I give a damn about seeing that? If anything, that's the last thing I want. I don't want to see the bitch who took down my father and brother turn out to be weak as piss!"

"I'm afraid that is why I've come," Cornelia said. "I don't deny what has happened, but now is not the time to dwell on the past. The world has changed, Black Dog."

"Link," Miranda said quietly. "Maybe we should hear them out. At least take them to General Harris. We can dispose of them later if need be."

Lincoln glared at Cornelia, weighing her words and those of his comrade and trusted friend. "I guess the General could use a laugh," he said. "Alright, move your asses, Brits. Line up at the bow. Miranda, call for a dropship and an engineering unit to get this ship to the Angel. God help them if this is a trap."

"I'll be forward with you, Black Dog," Cornelia said. "We have a number of Knightmares and some usable parts in the hold. I thought they'd come in handy if your people decided to help us."

"Oh, they'll come in handy alright," Lincoln said. "My men could use some target practice." He turned and walked back to his ship, retrieving his helmet along the way.

0o0o0

The _Midnight Angel _was buzzing with activity when the Britannian ship arrived beneath it. Crew members gathered around to watch as the four prisoners were brought aboard. Three were taken to the brig, but Miranda and Lincoln escorted Princess Cornelia to one of the conference rooms. There she remained for some time with the two Black Dogs standing guard in the room and a dozen armed commandos outside the door.

Eventually the door of the conference room opened and five more people entered the room. Four of them were commandos, dressed in a heavier version of the armor the pilots wore and carrying heavy rifles that fired large armor-piercing bullets rather than pulse beams. The fifth man was in his late fifties with gray hair and a sun-worn face. He wore an officer's uniform that identified him as a two-star general. The man sat down across the table from Cornelia and signaled for Lincoln and Miranda to sit as well.

"Alright then," he said. "I'm General Roland Harris, commanding officer of the Black Dog Battalion and the captain of this carrier. What exactly do you have to say that was worth throwing your life away, Britannian? And remember, if you don't give me an answer I like I'll order Captain McHale here to show us what color your brain is."

Cornelia took a breath, knowing that the pilot would have no problem following that order if it was given. "As you well know, General, my name is Cornelia li Britannia. I am the former Second Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire and the commander you led your men against during the New Zealand conflict. I've come here not as a princess but as a rebel and an outlaw. It is my desire to destroy the current Emperor of Britannia."

The entire room seemed to freeze. No one moved or spoke or even seemed to breathe for a few seconds. Then the general began to chuckle. His chuckling grew until it became a full-on roar of laughter. After a while he wiped his eyes with an amused sigh. "Well now. That certainly wasn't what I expected to hear. Tell me, Britannian Princess. Why would you want to take down Emperor Schneizel? I mean, I know why _I'd_ want to, but why do _you_ want to?"

Cornelia didn't look too pleased at being laughed at, but she continued on anyway. "Why? Because along the road I've travelled I've learned three facts. The first is the difference between justice and hypocrisy. The second is the true value of my position in comparison to the value of human lives. And the third is that my brother Schneizel has learned neither of the first two things."

"And you expect us to believe that philosophical bullshit?" Lincoln spat.

"No," Cornelia said. "But I do expect you to think logically. Schneizel will come for you no matter what. If you join forces with me you can take the fight to him and stop him before he has a chance to wipe your rebel nation from existence. If you don't, the battle will be between yourselves and literally the entire rest of the world, and it will be on their terms rather than yours. Do you really expect to win that way?"

Harris was quiet in thought. Eventually he nodded. "What you say makes sense, Britannian. But I can't even consider this without a reason to believe that you won't double-cross us when the time is right."

The princess glanced up at the still-hostile pilot standing nearby. "Well, there's the ever-present gun to my head," she said. "If that's not enough for you, I could tell you my motivation for doing all this." At a curious look from Harris she smiled. "Redemption, my good General. I intend to make up for the things I've done in life before my death. I helped bring about this madness Schneizel has engulfed our world in. On top of that I gave the order for hundreds, no thousands of deaths. And worst of all, I let it all go to waste when I failed to protect those that mattered most to me. So this, my final act as a Britannian princess, will be my attempt at redemption. As my late brother Lelouche put it, I will destroy this rotten world and build a new one in its place."

"And who'll run that new world of yours?" Harris asked. "You? Other Britannian nobles?"

"Neither. I'll let that part sort itself out." Cornelia smiled. "I never was the type to take all of the glory for myself."

"I'll need to discuss this with my superiors," Harris said. "For now you'll remain here, under Captain McHale's guard. McHale, if you harm so much as a hair on her head without due reason, I'll shoot you myself." Without waiting for either of their responses the general left, leaving the princess and the guards behind.

0o0o0

No one would ever expect to find a city beneath the ice of Antarctica. But that was exactly what one would find if they looked deep enough. During the colonization period, Confederate engineers had dug massive elevators down into the ice and to the bedrock below. There they had hollowed out massive domes with interconnecting tunnels, held stable by metal bracers. The land provided them with rich mineral deposits and other materials with which to build an entirely new society. The only things that were in short supply in Antarctica were wood and vegetation. Most food was either hydroponically grown or gathered from the ocean. The aforementioned domes soon housed cities that became home to hundreds of thousands of civilians. Despite the harsh conditions their people had flourished, now numbering in the tens of millions.

Near the coastline, with underwater docking stations beneath the Ross Ice Shelf, was the largest of these cities. The city, was the capital of the Confederacy. As such it was the center of the nation's commerce, government, and the nervous center of its military. It was here that the governing council met, presided over by the current president and advised by the head generals of each branch of the military.

Inside the capitol building, one such council was being held. The heads of the Confederate Defense Forces were here, as was the commander of a special division called the Raven's Claw Elite Guard, a highly trained and well-equipped special forces unit under the direct command of the president. The only general missing from the council was General Roland Harris, the commanding officer of the Black Dogs. Harris was addressing the governing council and the other generals via telecom from his carrier, the _Midnight Angel._

One wall of the council room was taken up by a large viewscreen which currently displayed Harris. The rest of the D-shaped room was filled by a semi-circle of desks in an amphitheater-like setup, occupied by the council and military heads and guarded by no less than twenty armed soldiers. None of the governing council seemed happy about what they were hearing from the Black Dog general.

"You're telling me you want us to help Cornelia li Britannia?" one of the governors said. "You're insane, General Harris. You should just kill her and be done with it."

"I don't want you to help her, I just want you to listen to her." Harris said defensively. "I will respect any decision made by the council as per my duty, but I urge you to at least listen to what she has to say. If she is truly offering us the chance to strike a mortal blow to Britannia…"

"So we strike. What then? How many soldiers must we lose to the F.L.E.I.J.A. weapons before we win? And how many of our settlements will be obliterated if this fight goes wrong?" This came from one of the generals. "President Collins, you cannot be seriously consider…"

George Collins, an elderly but strong-looking man with gray hair, cut the indignant general off in mid-sentence. "I'll hear what she has to say, Harris."

"Thank you, Mister President." General Harris stepped aside and a new face appeared on the screen. Princess Cornelia li Britannia examined the room displayed before her.

"Thank you very much for hearing me, gentlemen," she said with the grace of one born into royalty. "I'll get right to the point. I want your assistance. My brother, Emperor Schneizel, has spread his dominion over the entire world. I have been leading a resistance for the last three months but we have made no progress. However, I believe that with your assistance we can destroy Schneizel and end his tyranny over the world."

"And how do you plan to do that, Princess?" Collins asked.

"Our ultimate goal is the Damocles, the flying fortress that houses his supply of F.L.E.I.J.A. warheads. If we can eliminate the Damocles it'll take away his power over the world. Once his threat has been neutered he'll be an easy kill and we can focus on helping the world rebuild itself. And before you suggest that I am doing this for my own personal gain, I have renounced my claim to the throne. I will never be the Empress, nor will I ever be considered royalty again."

"And why do you think we would help in this matter?" Collins asked. "We're content as long as people leave us the hell alone. We're separate from your world, Britannian."

"But you're not. Once Schneizel discovers you, and with the world under in his grasp that won't be hard, it's inevitable that he will come after you. Do you really think you can protect your homeland from the entire world and their weapons?" Cornelia's words seemed to strike home with the president.

"I need a moment to think on this," he said. Cornelia nodded and the video feed was cut off. Collins sat there for a while, weighing his options. However, he was about to get some help in that department.

A middle-aged Australian man stepped up next to the president, leaning down to whisper into his ear. "Sir," the man said. "I think you should take her offer."

"And what makes you say that, Commander Maverick?"

Maverick, the head of the Raven's Claw Elite Guard, smiled. "She's putting us in a situation where we can't help but come out on top. We send the Black Dogs to do this. If they succeed it'll make people forget about the Braddock scandal and improve the world around us as well as the world's view of our nation. And if they fail.. well, it'll be an easy way to remove the stain on our great nation's honor."

"And what happens if they fail and Britannia comes after us in retaliation?" Collins asked.

"The CDF and the Ravens will be more than enough to protect our nation through anything," Maverick said. "We cannot lose."

Collins thought about it. On one hand, he and Harris had been friends at one point. They'd fought side-by-side during the New Zealand conflict. Indeed, Harris might have been president now instead of him if it wasn't for the Braddock scandal. But when the Black Dogs fell from grace they became an eyesore to the public, a presence no one wanted to acknowledge. They were a constant drain on the morale of the people and had to be dealt with. At the same time, however, Collins had faith in his old friend. He knew that if anyone could get this done, it was Harris and the Black Dogs. Therefore, the president had only one choice.

"Bring them back online," he said to one of the soldiers. The screen instantly displayed Cornelia and Harris. "General Harris, I am assigning you to this mission. You, the carrier _Midnight Angel, _and all of the Black Dogs are to follow Cornelia's plan." He looked to Cornelia. "And Princess… if this goes well you'll be welcome in my nation any time. But if it goes wrong, or you betray us, I'll make sure to lay waste to you and everything you hold dear. Is that understood?" Cornelia nodded. "Very well. Good luck and godspeed, Black Dogs." General Harris saluted then the screen went black.

"Forgive me, old friend," Collins whispered.

0o0o0

"We're going through with this?!" Miranda asked furiously, punching the side of her Thunderbolt. "What the fuck is the brass thinking?!"

"I'm sure they thought you were the best for the job," Cornelia said calmly. She was standing in the hangar bay, addressing Cobra Wing directly. A guard stood on either side of her and a collar containing a tracker and a small bomb had been fitted around her neck. None of the Black Dogs seemed very happy to hear what their leaders back home had ordered, but one out of the group looked angrier than the rest.

"No," Lincoln said, his voice shaking with barely-suppressed rage that made Miranda's anger look mild in comparison. "They're sending us because they don't think we'll win. They think we'll die in battle and they won't have to deal with us anymore…" He glared at the side of his own Thunderbolt. He knew who had to be behind this: Maverick, the relatively young commander of the Raven's Claw Elite Guard. The Ravens were notorious for hating the Black Dogs and doing whatever they could to make the BD's lives miserable. They had even ran a number of operations in which they'd lured out Black Dog soldiers on false orders then killed them, claiming that they'd gone rouge.

"But you won't fail," Cornelia said. "I know your comrades, McHale. You _are _the ones who bested me in battle after all. You can do this."

Lincoln stood up and began walking towards the princess. "Hate to break it to you sister, but we're not the same old Black Dogs. We used to be the best of the best. Now we're just a rag-tag militia at best. Our gear is either old outdated shit that barely runs or untested prototypes too dangerous for valuable soldiers to use and our crew is made up of old hands who should've retired but don't want to and criminals paying their debt to society through military service. Black Dog Duty is a thinly-disguised death sentence and everyone here knows it." He passed Cornelia, making his way towards the door but stopping a few feet past her. "We'll fight to the end and do everything we can to win because those are our orders, Princess. But make no mistake: once this is over with, you and I are going to settle up. I'm going to stay alive long enough to kill you, Cornelia." With those words he exited the hangar bay, leaving Cornelia with the rest of Cobra Wing.

"Go make sure he's alright," Miranda said to the other three members of the squad. They left, leaving Miranda alone in the bay with the princess and her guards. She approached Cornelia once the others had left and looked the Britannian royal in the eyes, mistrust in her sharp gaze. "So tell me, Witch of Britannia. What is your real intention here?"

"I beg your pardon?" Cornelia asked. "I believe I've already made my…"

"You fed us a line of shit that the brass miraculously believed," Miranda said. "But I'm not so foolish. I know how Britannians are. Trust me, I am one. You've got some ulterior motive, don't you?"

"A Britannian?" Cornelia asked. "What in God's name are you doing here of all places?"

"My parents were killed as a result of someone grabbing for power," Miranda said. "I managed to flee and stowed away on a ship that ended up in New Zealand, where I was taken in by the McHale family. I love Link like a brother, which is why I will not allow you to use him for your own selfish desires. Now, answer my question Britannian."

Cornelia nodded, understanding the woman's loyalty to her friend well. "Alright. I've told you that I failed those I loved most. What I didn't tell you was that two of my loved ones are still alive. One is Schneizel, whose actions have turned him into my mortal enemy. If I do not move against him my life will have no meaning. And the other is my sister, who is Schneizel's prisoner. I hope to rescue her in the process of dismantling this wicked empire Schneizel has created."

"So it was for your own ends," Miranda snarled, reaching for the pistol she carried on her hip.

"Indeed. My younger sister was blinded and crippled when her mother, Lady Marianne, was assassinated. After that she and our brother Lelouche were sent to Area 11 as a way to secure a peaceful relationship between Britannia and Area 11, known at that time as Japan. But then my father, Emperor Charles, declared war on Japan anyway. We thought Nunnally and Lelouche were dead, but she eventually turned up. Just as soon as she was returned to us our father sought to use her as his pawn again. And when he passed my brother Schneizel did the same. Now she is rotting in one of his prisons." A tear fell from Cornelia's eye, followed by another. "I failed Lelouche and the others. I won't fail Nunnally." The princess clenched her first, staring down at it. "I will put an end to her nightmare once and for all, just as Lelouche sought to do. That is why I requested your help, and that is why I must fight this battle, even if I must do it alone."

Miranda continued glaring at Cornelia for some time, as if expecting to find some trace of insincerity in the woman's manner. Finally she sighed and began walking towards the door as well. "Very well Princess," she said as she left. "But I'm warning you. If your redemption leads to Lincoln's death, I will find this girl you treasure so much. I will make you watch as I torture and slowly kill Nunnally. Then I will lock you in a cell for the rest of your life, unable to die and forced to rewatch her death over and over, night and day, until you finally perish from old age."

Cornelia turned as the young woman reached the door leading out of the bay. "Lieutenant, if I might ask something…"

Miranda halted. "What?"

"What happened to the Black Dogs?" Cornelia asked. "Why did such an amazing force of warriors that rivaled the knights of Britannia fall from grace?"

Miranda turned back and walked towards Cornelia again, her eyes sorrowful. "It's a long story," she said. "I guess it starts with a man named Braddock. He was some researcher before the New Zealand campaign. Apparently he was doing all kinds of horrible experiments on a squad of Black Dogs. Then, when things got hairy, he started killing the Black Dogs and covering up the project. A few Black Dogs escaped and he led an entire campaign to destroy them, saying they were rebels. Eventually the project was exposed and Braddock was executed as a criminal. Because of that project the Black Dogs have been disgraced and outcast. We're the unwanted because of that man." Miranda sighed, a sad look in her eyes. "All that we've done and everything we've sacrificed was forgotten in a heartbeat when that project we had nothing to do with came to light."

Cornelia found this information quite… disheartening. She'd seen the Black Dogs as an unstoppable force, one that would even topple Britannia if they ever turned their gunsights towards the empire. To see her old foes in this state made her sick. "Then we must win this war at all costs," she said firmly. "Maybe then your people will be reminded of just who the Black Dogs are and what they stand for."

Miranda nodded and made her way towards the door again. "God willing," she muttered."

_(A/N: Tadaaa! Chapter one is done! I know it's not much but I'm hopeful that this one will turn out interesting enough for someone to read and enjoy. And if Cornelia seems a bit out-of-character, it's because she's not the same Cornelia. She's had eight months since Schneizel tried to kill her to reflect on her actions and realize what she's done with her life. She's still a proud, badass princess but she's more human now, as was shown in one of the final episodes when Guilford was at her bedside after she'd been shot. At the moment she's about halfway between the original Cornelia from R1 of C.G. and the Cornelia in that hospital bed._

_Miranda… ah, Miranda. I struggled with this character. I wanted her to be somewhat along the lines of Leila Malkal from Akito the Exiled in the sense that she was a former Britannian noble, but more of a comrade and fellow soldier than Leila was in the first two episodes of AtE. Miranda is tough and skilled, just like Link is without sacrificing gentler, more womanly aspects such as her great love for Link and her protectiveness over him. I also imagined her as being very beautiful, not in the overextravagant way the Britannian women were pictured in C.G. but rather a rough sort of beauty like Kallen or Chiba. She's still a woman and an attractive one at that, but she's also a soldier in a division that's seen the most hellish combat imaginable and come out on top almost every time._

_Lincoln is pretty much my main dude. I used to roleplay online a lot and he was one of my characters. When I started writing this fanfic I knew the lead role had to be his. And yes, those two cute little kids in the beginning are his siblings. I'll have a little bit more of them later on down the line but they're not much more than a motivational tool for Link at this point. They're kinda like Nunnally was in the beginning of C.G… although that right there might be a bit of foreshadowing!_

_Lastly, I'd like to bring up a few names here. Harris. Collins. Maverick. Braddock. These are names from the BZ universe that I have borrowed. In the BZ universe, Harris was the commander of the Black Dog forces on Ganymede when the Chinese forces attacked. Collins was the general leading the American forces during that same timeframe in their campaign against Russia's CCA (Cosmo-Colonist Army). Maverick is from the Fleshstorm II mod, as the arrogant but skilled leader of the RCEG. I always hated the prick. And Braddock, speaking of pricks, was a scientist during BZ1 who experimented on Black Dogs, fusing them into their ships in an effort to create the ultimate fighting machine. When the project went way, way wrong he abandoned the BD's and covered it all up. Decades later, in BZ2, the now-General Braddock would lead the ISDF in a campaign against 'aliens' who were really the remnants of the Black Dogs he'd betrayed. I re-tooled them to fit into this fanfic. For example, in this fic Collins led the bulk of the Confederate forces during the New Zealand campaign while then-Commander Harris led the Black Dogs._

_So yeah. Here's chapter one of my latest abomination. Let me know what you think and I might just post more of it! And I've decided to use Battlezone mission names for the names of the chapters in this. Just for shiggles.)_


	2. Chapter 2: A Nasty Surprise

In the dead of night, the carrier _Midnight Angel_ drifted through the clouds on a northward heading. It may have been late but the conference room of the ship was alive as ever. Within the room, Cornelia li Britannia was discussing the next move of their rebellion with her newfound allies, General Harris and the Black Dogs. With the two in the room were the members of Cobra Wing and the remaining members of the resistance. There was a clear divide between the two factions. On one side of the room stood Cornelia's comrades, consisting of a dark-skinned Britannian woman named Villetta Nu, a bespectacled Japanese man named Minami, and a Chinese woman named Xianglin. These three stood along the wall, gazing at the four subordinate members of Cobra Wing. Along the opposite wall stood those Black Dogs, the first of which was Miranda Caldwell, the former Britannian. She was joined by a tall, slender redheaded man named Corporal Gavin DeWitt, a shorter blonde woman known as Corporal Soria Langston, and a grizzled old Second Lieutenant named Jasper Bates.

At the table sat Cornelia herself. The princess faced the two men on the other side of the table, General Harris and Captain McHale. She was clearly avoiding Lincoln's gaze, a good idea since the Black Dog was glaring at her with clear murderous intent in his eyes and seemed likely to lash out given the slightest provocation. Between them, displayed on a screen set beneath the glass tabletop, was a map of the world.

"So how do you propose we do this, Cornelia?" Harris asked. "Obviously we need to hit the Damocles, but with our current force strength we won't even get near it."

"That is why we must strike at Area 11, formerly known as Japan," Cornelia said. At these words Lincoln stood up, indignant.

"Are you insane?" he asked angrily. "Why the hell should we go to the middle of buttfuck nowhere when the enemy is holding position over North America?"

"There are a number of valuable prisoners being held in the government prison in the Tokyo settlement, including former members of the Black Knights." Cornelia's voice remained calm, although the princess was annoyed by the interruption. "Among them is Nina Einstein, the inventor of the F.L.E.I.J.A. weapons. I am sure we can convince Nina and the others to join our cause if we free them."

Lincoln sat back down, looking doubtful. "I still don't like it," he said. "As it stands we have the element of surprise. We can hit the Britannian Homeland and completely blindside them. If we push we can cross that damn continent before they even know what's going on. If we attack the Tokyo settlement we'll give ourselves away and lose that element of surprise. Britannia will be a lot better prepared for us when we go after the Damocles."

"That is true," Cornelia admitted. "But the knowledge, personnel, and resources we'll gain from rescuing the prisoners will counter that lost surprise. And even if the Britannians are alerted to our presence and capabilities they'll still be unprepared for the combat abilities and strategies your soldiers bring to the battle." Her eyes went to Harris, who was contemplating the world map while listening to their debate. "It's your call, General. Although if you refuse, I will ask that you hold back your assault long enough for my comrades and I to at least attempt a rescue."

"Not possible," Harris said. "You can't rescue them with just four people. And while Captain McHale has a good point, I think we'll need all the help we can get to pull this off." He reached out and tapped Area 11 on the tabletop, causing the map to zoom in on the small island nation that was once Japan. "So, McHale, how do you think we should do this?"

Lincoln studied the map for a few moments, occasionally tapping it to zoom in on certain areas of the target city and surrounding province. "We attack from the southwest," he said finally. "We land in the flats out here. Send in Snooper teams to knock out their eyes and ears and give us a better view of what's going on down on the ground. Then we hit 'em fast and hard. RDs, Avengers, Thunderbolts. That kind of thing. Three squads and some APCs for the prisoners ought to do it. We'll be in and out in an hour max."

Harris thought about this plan. "Cornelia, thoughts?" he asked.

Cornelia pointed towards the center of the settlement in response. "This area is still undergoing reconstruction from the first combat detonation of a F.L.E.I.J.A. warhead. It'll be a deathtrap for your vehicles. Approaching from the southwest will force our team to go around the crater and that will take time."

"But we'll have to fly overland to get to the northeastern approach," Lincoln said. "Not an option."

"Your air transports will have to fly overland to pick you up once you've secured the prisioners, won't they?"

Lincoln shook his head. "Nope. We'll run right out into the bay. We're not taking any heavies in so we'll be able to go over the water. And we'll be using hover transports rather than the airborne APCs. Believe it or not those transports are insanely fast. We'll make it on a sea run."

"That's all well and good," Cornelia said. "But what about Knightmares? Our Frames can't exactly walk on water."

"Who said Knightmares are going?" Lincoln asked, bristling once more.

"Do you expect us to remain here while your men do all of the dirty work?" Cornelia asked. "We'll be joining you."

Lincoln opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by General Harris. "No, you won't," he said. "Cornelia, you will be staying here for obvious reasons. As for the rest of you, we only have one Knightmare ready to deploy. Who is the best pilot among the three of you?" The three resistance members near the wall glanced at each other.

"That would be me," Villetta finally said. "I'm a former knight. I'm not as graceful as Her Highness but I can hold my own."

"Alright then," Harris said. He touched the screen again, opening the ship's intercom. "Engineering, what's the status on the Knightmare repairs?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" the voice of one of the engineers responded. "We just barely got one of the pieces of shit moving! And that special project is screwing us up the ass and out the mouth! We've had to replace the sprayer nozzles in the construction bay six times already! And don't even get me started on the assembly frame!"

"Do whatever it takes to get that second unit running," Harris said. "I don't care what you have to do. Get that thing ready for our mission." He cut off the intercom just as the engineer started to argue.

"Should we be aware of something?" Lincoln asked. "What's this special project of yours?"

"Something I was preparing for our own forces," Harris said. "But now we can return it to its rightful owner, which will benefit us far more than giving it to one of our men."

Lincoln could tell that his commanding officer didn't want to elaborate so he dropped the subject. Villetta caught this as well and took the opportunity to change the subject. "So what do you have put together for me to drive?" she asked.

"A Sutherland," Harris said. "We've made a few improvements, but Engineer Wallace can explain that to you downstairs once this meeting is over."

"Unless those improvements include a float unit I don't think I'll be able to make the escape," Villetta said.

"Talk to Wallace before you start making complaints," Harris commented with a grin. "Now, is there anything else we need to discuss?" Lincoln and Cornelia both shook their heads. "Very well then. McHale, I'm putting Wraith, Phantom, Ghost, and Poltergeist wings on the stealth run. Cobra will lead the assault with Viper and Hellion supporting. Apparently Engineering has something new that they're outfitting Hellion wing with so your men should take a look while they're down there. Cornelia, McHale, please stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed." The other Black Dogs saluted their general and filed out, followed by the resistance members. Lincoln and Cornelia stayed behind with the general, who waited until the others were gone before speaking.

"Alright you two," the general said. "I know all about your past run-in, but I need you two working together. I understand how you feel about her McHale and on any other day I'd sympathize. But I need you to put that aside, because I'm giving Cornelia command of this mission."

At this Lincoln stood up once more, utterly appalled. "Sir, you can't be serious!" he said. "You're putting our lives in the hands of that damn Britannian?!"

"I agree with the captain," Cornelia said calmly. "Your men will not follow my orders willingly, especially not with the captain's attitude towards myself and the others. This will not end well."

"That's why I'm ordering this," Harris said. "You two need to learn to work together. So either you work together and live or you don't and our men and the prisoners all die. Your choice, you two. And if that's not enough to convince you, Cornelia knows the area and the enemy far better than you or I or anyone else on this ship. That knowledge and experience will be instrumental to our victory." The general stood up and left the room at that point, leaving the two mortal enemies in the conference room together.

For a while neither spoke. Then Cornelia stood up and walked around the table to stand next to Lincoln, who promptly stood as well. "Listen," she said in a softer voice than usual. "I don't like this arrangement any more than you do. But I do believe what your general said. You and I together can crush these pathetic fools into dust and free those people. I'm willing to put my faith in you and your comrades. So I ask you to place your trust in me, Lincoln McHale. I give you my word as a princess, a warrior, and a woman that I will not betray that trust."

Lincoln glared at the former princess, feeling himself filling with hatred for the woman before him. He wanted nothing more than to kill her right here. It would be so easy to pull his knife from his flight suit and slash her throat wide open, leaving her to bleed out in that conference room. But there was something more important than his hatred, and that was his duty. There would be roughly forty Black Dogs on this mission, a mission he would be leading. Field command would fall to him but it was Cornelia would be the one watching over them and directing their operation. He didn't trust her, but if he was rebellious his comrades would follow suit and that could lead to their deaths. With this in mind the Black Dog reluctantly nodded. "Alright," he said slowly. "I'll follow you for now, Britannian. But I swear to God, if this is a trap, I'll make sure at least one person comes back to kill your ass."

"A fair deal," Cornelia said. "Well then, shall we proceed to the engineering sector?"

0o0o0

As Villetta Nu and the members of Cobra Wing entered the engineering bay they found a pair of engineers arguing over the name of a new vehicle. The vehicle, a design descended from an older model, was painted yellow like most Black Dog vehicles. It had a large rocket rack on the left part of the roof and a thick cannon barrel on the right. A pair of long prong-like sections protruded from the front, between the bases of which the cockpit was nestled. The back end of this vehicle was rounded down and would have made a blunt point if not for the large engine shroud that stuck out a few inches from the hull of the ship.

"I say 'Warthog,'" one of the engineers said.

"Why? It doesn't look anything like a pig!" the other argued.

"See those bumpers? They look like tusks! Therefore, 'Warthog.'"

"Dude, think about this. It's based off of the old Bobcat design. Shouldn't we follow that theme and name it after some sort of big cat?"

The first engineer contemplated the machine. "What… like a puma?" he asked.

The second nodded excitedly. "Yeah man, there you go!"

The members of Cobra Wing and their Britannian comrade continued on past the two and made their way to the back, where the five Thunderbolts of Cobra Wing were held in service racks. Nearby was a yellow-painted Sutherland being fitted with a sheathed sword. Villetta stopped in front of the Sutherland while the Black Dog pilots went to their respective rides, examining them. Engineer Wallace, a short but powerfully-built man, approached her while wiping his hands on a rag.

"She's all set for ya," he said. "We've fitted her with biometal armor and an old Model One float unit pack we captured during a mission a year or so ago. Some of the systems had to be replaced so we had to come up with stuff to replace her innards. Targeting computers, inertia sensors, junk like that. She'll handle like usual, but her Yggdrasil drive was a paperweight so we had to stick something else in there."

"What kind of something else?" Villetta asked apprehensively.

"We've been working on a scaled-down version of the reactors we use to power field bases. On the plus side, you won't need an energy filler anymore." Wallace pointed towards the Kightmare's filler hatch, which was now welded shut. "On the downside you'll be running on hydroline, the same stuff our vehicles run on. You can run 'er on straight hydrogen too but that's not nearly as effective."

The former Knight of Honor forced herself not to think about the hazards of running around in a combat vehicle powered by a nuclear reactor. "So what about weapons?" she asked.

"We scavenged ammo from the other Frames for the rifle. You've got a full complement there. Her antipersonnel gun was a different story. We've now fitted a cold-fusion laser to her that's plumbed straight into the reactor. Same thing we have for the secondary guns on the T-20 Attila Landmaster." He thought for a second then remembered another item. "Oh, and we stuck the sword from that white Knightmare on as well."

"The Lancelot's MVS?" Villetta asked, surprised.

"Yeah. Normal Sutherlands couldn't handle them bitches but our reactor puts out more than enough to run it." His words were punctuated by the sound of a welder running somewhere on the back of the Sutherland. "Too bad you couldn't recover more of that Lancelot thing."

"What about the Guren?" Villetta asked. "We managed to get all but the left arm and the legs. If you've managed to do this much, can't you get that running again?"

"Whaddaya think the general was talkin' about?" Wallace gestured further down the bay, where three engineers were working over a newly-built arm. "He wants that old red thing up and running before the mission."

"Before the mission? Who does he intend to have drive it?"

Before Wallace could answer a shout was heard from down the line. "Hey! Wallace! What the hell do you call these?" Miranda demanded, pointing at the newly-added components to the outside of her Thunderbolt.

"Slash Harkens," Wallace shouted back.

"Why the hell are these pieces of shit on our rides?" Miranda asked angrily.

"I thought they'd come in handy!" Wallace replied. "Don't like it? Don't use it!"

Miranda went back to looking over her vehicle, clearly upset by the addition of Britannian tech to her Thunderbolt. Despite her arguments, however, she could see the clear advantages the addition of the Harkens to the vehicles would give them in battle. The Harkens would give them an added level of mobility as well as a new weapon to bring to bear against their enemies. And in the coming operation they would need every advantage they could possibly get.

As the disgruntled Black Dog went back to her vehicle, Villetta found herself intrigued by another hovertank held in a service lift nearby. This craft had a humped back, a rather flat nose, and a number of antennas poking up from its hull. It was painted a dull orange rather than yellow, making it the only other unit beside the Red Devil to carry such a different paint job. Wallace caught her looking at the craft and grinned.

"Snooper scout," he said proudly. "I helped design this baby myself. She's faster than a normal Thunderbolt, but she doesn't have any weapons or armor."

"What role does this ship serve then?" Villetta asked.

"It's an EW craft. It can deploy radar jammers and hide friendly forces. It can also give us a nice clear view of what's going on in the area. Just one is enough to give us full sensor coverage of that Tokyo settlement of yours." Wallace rubbed one of the fenders fondly. "There's a few of these gonna be running interference for you on the ground. Unlike our combat squads, these guys and their escorts can slip in and out undetected. They'll be going in before you and they'll bug out once you're done."

Villetta gazed around at the bay, taking in the various vehicles and hardware that surrounded her. When Cornelia had first told her about an army that couldn't be defeated she'd been skeptical. But now, seeing all of this technology and the people who made their way in the world by using it, it was almost possible to believe that the Black Dogs had stopped Cornelia's entire army with a mere forty men. If they'd been able to do that, they just might be able to stop Britannia altogether. For the first time in a long time the former baroness was hopeful.

0o0o0

Two hours until launch found Cornelia in the hangar bay, sitting in the pilot's seat of one of the HS-04 units with a heavy, beaten-up book on her lap. Harris had instructed her to familiarize herself with the controls of the ship. She'd wanted to learn about the vehicles anyway, partly because her life might someday depend on one and partly to help her better understand these Black Dogs. But now, all she understood was that Confederate English was a great deal different from Britannian English. The manual was very confusing to her, as if it was talking about a completely different vehicle.

"Mind telling me what you're doing in my ride?" a familiar and rather displeased voice asked from outside the vehicle. Cornelia jumped at the sound. She'd been so focused on the manual that she hadn't noticed Lincoln approaching.

"Your general wants me to learn to control one of your vehicles," she said. "But this manual is almost unintelligible!"

"That's because it's for the P-57 Razor," Link said, climbing onto his ride's hull and looking down at the book in her lap. "We haven't used that model in five years. The last major engagements were our own civil war and the New Zealand incident."

Cornelia closed the manual, feeling embarrassed. She'd asked one of the technicians for the control manual for their scout units. Apparently the tech had played a joke on her. "Is that what you drove last time we met?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Link said, leaning over the sidewall. "The controls on these babies are a lot easier to work with. Those old Razors had a steep learning curve to them." He pointed towards the controls, which mainly consisted of two D-shaped handles. "Alright, Hovertank 101. Those two grips control almost every function of this thing. You push forward on both handles to go forward and pull back to go in reverse. To turn you pull back in the direction you want to go and push forward in the other direction." He demonstrated with his hands. "So if you want to go right you pull back on the right grip and push forward on the left." He pointed down at the floor near her feet next. "Those two pedals push you side to side. Push the left one to strafe left, push the right to go right. Simple shit."

"What if I want to stop altogether?" Cornelia asked.

"You've got a couple options. These babies are equipped with airbrakes controlled by the yellow button on the left control, but they tend to seize or snap off. We pilots generally use our maneuvering jets to stop or slow down. Just throw it in reverse if you have to stop quick, but make sure you've eaten something tasty for breakfast because you'll be tasting it again." He reached forward and tapped a dial near her right elbow. "This thing here is your clearance. It controls how high you're sitting off the ground. Default ride height is three feet for all craft, but sometimes you'll need extra for unstable terrain or tight spaces or whatever."

Cornelia examined the dial. "Will I need it for navigating inclines?" she asked.

"No," Lincoln replied. "The sensor suite includes passive terrain monitoring. It displays the shape of the surrounding terrain on your radar, and it also adjusts the lifters to compensate for hills or holes or whatever." He shifted position then pointed at the right control handle. "Weapons are controlled from there. That trigger inside the grip fires your guns and the red switch up top fires missiles. Other vehicles will have different hardpoints and therefore different controls. For example, the Sabre has four triggers in the grip. Top one is the cannon, next is guns, next is mortars, and last is mines. This bitch has mines too but they're dropped by that white button on the top of the left handle."

"I see…" Cornelia studied the ship's control layout a little longer, memorizing everything her former enemy had taught her. As she did this Link jumped down and began walking around the Thunderbolt, checking it over in preparation for the coming mission. After a while Cornelia disembarked as well and stood near the next vehicle over in order to stay out of his way. Her mouth opened as he passed by but she stopped, unsure of what to say to the pilot. She was feeling uncomfortable with the silence but knew his feelings towards her and did not want to inadvertently provoke him. And so the silence remained, broken only by the sound of the radio that one of the technicians had left on.

Lincoln had noticed the princess about to speak but had ignored her. Just as she figured, he still wanted her dead. Several times he'd caught himself thinking of ways to make her demise look like an accident, but he wasn't going to do the dirty deed. Despite his own feelings, he knew that Cornelia would be instrumental to their success. The Black Dogs needed her alive, for now. For now the pilot finished his checking then walked by her again, heading for the exit.

"Lincoln," Cornelia finally said as he passed again. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry about your father an…" She never finished that sentence. Lincoln turned at that point and grabbed the Britannian royal by the throat and slammed her against the side of his Thunderbolt, fury in his eyes.

"Don't you dare," he snarled. "Don't you dare apologize goddammit! Those two men were killed in battle in order to protect their people, and their sacrifices saved countless lives. They died as heroes so don't you _dare _dishonor them by apologizing, Cornelia li Britannia!" He released the startled princess, snorting in disgust and turning his back on her once more. Cornelia watched him leave and rubbed her throat.

"I just hope that I get to die with honor when you finally take your revenge," she whispered once he was out of earshot.

0o0o0

As the _Midnight Angel_ approached the drop point, the Black Dogs began to set into motion for their mission. The stealth squads had already been deployed half an hour previously. Now it was nearing time for the actual assault team to deploy. The members of Cobra, Viper, and Hellion squads were in the hangar bay, each of their vehicles held in the launch cradles that lined the floor near the door. Cobra and Viper squadrons were comprised of five Thunderbolt scouts each. Hellion squad was made up of two of the new Puma light tanks and three Red Devils, rocket-bearing hovertanks with a red paint job and low profile hulls. These were the oldest units in use, being a rebuilt and updated version of the original Red Devil that had been used during the New Zealand conflict. They were fast and dangerous but didn't have much in the way of armor. Behind the ships was the recently-restored yellow Sutherland that would be piloted by Villetta Nu. The vehicle had been emblazoned with the emblem of the Black Dogs: the snarling head of a black dog over a yellow moon.

Lincoln sat in the cockpit of his Thunderbolt. He was running pre-flight checks on his vehicle, as were the rest of the Black Dogs. As he set the ship's computer to do a diagnostic on his engines he looked back behind the line of launchers at the three heavy transports that were waiting. The transports were massive, with blunt, rounded noses at the front and seven engines at their rear. Each unit had a large troop bay slung in a long rectangular opening in its belly. These bays were held by heavy hydraulic clamps. The transports could carry crates of supplies or heavy equipment in place of the passenger container if need be. Lincoln also noticed a brown vehicle shaped like a boxy horseshoe. It was an older model dating back at least six years. It had no weapons whatsoever and minimal armor. What it did have, however, was an oversized V-thruster engine and a set of magnetic clamps. This vehicle was called a tug, and as its name suggests it was meant for carrying heavy objects. It was currently carrying a large metal crate. Lincoln didn't know what was in the crate but he knew that it was there under the orders of General Harris, so he wasn't going to complain.

The voice of Cornelia li Britannia came over his radio, broadcasting on the command channel for all of the pilots to hear. "Assault team, this is the bridge. We are approaching Drop Point Two. Prepare for deployment. Remember, your objectives are to secure the prisoners held in the Tokyo settlement and escort them back here to the carrier."

"Alright, you heard the lady!" Lincoln roared. "Let's do this Black Dogs!"

All of the combat pilots closed their respective canopies. The sound of engines filled the hangar bay in a deafening roar as the fifteen combat vehicles and four transport craft warmed up and prepared to the depart.

"Arriving at drop point. All hands stand by." The carrier came to a halt and lowered down towards the water, hovering with its hull barely touching the highest waves. "Deploying assault team in three.. two.. one.. LAUNCH!"

At Cornelia's command the combat units rocketed forward. The yellow-painted Sutherland followed close behind, flying a short distance above the hovertanks. Lincoln wrestled with the controls of his Thunderbolt as it bounced across the water a few times before adjusting to the water and settling into the normal three-foot hovering height. Behind them the transport craft dropped from the carrier and tore off after their escorts.

Within the bridge of the carrier, Cornelia stood in the center of the room and watched the various viewscreens that showed the status of the units in the assault and their video feeds. Another screen nearby showed a map of the area with the carrier in the center. They were fifteen miles off of the coast of Area 11, or Japan as it had once been known. Near her sat the Chinese woman named Xianglin. She had been a commander as well as a soldier and was therefore a natural choice for helping out on the bridge. Minami was piloting the tug carrying that unmarked metal crate as he had a role to play in the coming battle. The former officer of the Black Knight rebellion would be able to reassure his comrades once the prison was broken open.

"Godspeed, all of you," Cornelia whispered as the twenty green marks sped across the map. Xianglin glanced at the princess's reflection in a nearby monitor but didn't comment. It was strange enough for her to be working with the Witch of Britannia. It was even stranger to hear the woman who had slain so many foes in battle and conquered so many lands speak in such a subdued manner. To the Xianglin it felt like a bad omen.

0o0o0

The Black Dogs made land right on target, four minutes ahead of schedule. They tore across the terrain and sped northward, following the rail line. In only a few more minutes the Tokyo settlement came into view. Apparently the snooper scouts had done their job because the Black Dogs found no enemy forces waiting for them. With no warning about the approaching threat the Britannians would never respond in time to stop the assault.

"Alright, co-ordinates are locked in," Link said over his comm. "All units stay frosty; this could get real interesting real quick."

The assault tore through the Britannian streets, hovering just over the tops of the cars on the road. Lincoln knew that people would be calling the police so he opened his throttle a bit wider, squeezing even more power out of the oversized turbine on his ride.

Their first engagement came far too soon. A white Sutherland with flashing red and blue lights dived out into the street, attempting to cut them off. The unit was a modified version with more rounded armor on the groin and legs, a holster built into each hip, and armed with twin machine pistols.

"Knight police!" Villetta called over the comm. Her own Sutherland dived towards the street but there was no need for her to engage the enemy. Lincoln squeezed the trigger on his Thunderbolt and his guns barked on either side of his ship's canopy. The 33mm armor-piercing machine gun bullets tore through the cockpit block of the knightmare as if the machine's armor plating was just paper. A few of the shots left trails of crimson vapor as they exited the knightmare, leaving no doubt as to the fate of the operator.

"They'll be onto us soon," Lincoln said. "Step it up people!"

0o0o0

Emperor Schniezel, a tall, beautiful Britannian man with an athletic figure, long blonde hair, and blue eyes like diamonds, stood on the bridge of his cruiser. The _Great Britannia_ was holding position over the Tokyo settlement in order to direct the reconstruction process. Hundreds of crews were hard at work down below, trying to fix the perfectly spherical crater that had been cut out of the city. This was the power of his F.L.E.I.J.A. weapons, the power that kept the world in check and under his rule. Terrorism had vanished almost overnight and no nation dared oppose him… yet.

"My Lord." Schniezel glanced towards the speaker, a dark-haired woman in a long white coat that obscured her entire body. "We have received a report that a police knightmare has been destroyed by forces of unknown origin."

"What can you tell me about these forces?" the emperor asked.

` "Nothing for certain, my Lord," the woman said. "They have one knightmare, a Sutherland. But they also have a number of unknown vehicles. They appear to be some sort of high-speed hovering weapons platform of various configurations. From the reports, they are heading right for us."

"Deploy our forces in an encircling pattern," Schniezel said. "I want you to protect the new Government Center. Tell our men to shoot to kill."

"Yes, my Lord!" the woman said, holding her fist over her heart in a salute. "The Knight of Four hears your orders and will comply to the best of her ability!" With that the woman turned and left, leaving Schniezel to watch the city below from the windows of the bridge.

"Today might not be so boring after all," he said with a small grin.

0o0o0

"Britannian prison coming into view," Miranda called over the comm. "Permission to fire?" Lincoln could see the prison, a fortified structure in the center of the city. There were easily fifty knightmares and a hundred men guarding the place. The enemy knightmares were all the same type: purple and gray constructs with a smaller cockpit block than a Sutherland, a pointed, helmet-like head, bulky, angular shoulders, and more rounded armor on the chest, groin, and legs. Each unit carried the same rifle as the old Sutherlands as well as a pair of MVS sabers in sheaths mounted on either side of the cockpit block. Lincoln recognized the new models as Vincent-Wards, the newest mass-production knightmare frames that had replaced the Sutherland as Britannia's mainstream combat system. They were a stripped-down mass-production version of the old Lancelot prototype, and while they weren't nearly as powerful as the original they were still deadly opponents in knightmare-to-knightmare combat. Thankfully, the CDF didn't use knightmares.

"Fire at will," Lincoln said. "Get those Brits out of the way so we can rescue the prisoners!"

At once the Black Dogs opened up on the enemy. The Vincent-Ward units were torn to shreds under a hail of rockets, AT-Stabber anti-tank shells, and 33mm bullets. Villetta took down two of the enemy knightmares that tried to take to the skies, filling one full of lead from her rifle and slicing through the cockpit of the other with her sword. In a matter of moments the guards of the prison were either dead or fleeing. One of the Pumas locked onto the gate and fired off a Hornet, a slow but powerful heat-seeking missile that had more than enough punch to obliterate a Sutherland. The metal gate was blown off of its tracks and the Black Dogs poured through, cutting down the remaining defenses around the prison. The three APCs came to a halt near the entrance and number of CDF foot soldiers jumped out. The men charged into the building while the hovertanks took up defensive positions around the prison.

"And now the waiting game," Lincoln whispered.

Several seconds ticked by, then a new indicator appeared on his radar. Enemy knightmares were approaching their position. He warned his men to stay sharp then checked his weapons. He had just under three hundred rounds left in his guns and sixteen missiles. His men were all in similar states. They would be able to hold out for some time, but not forever.

The first prisoners began to run from the building and to the transports just as the lead enemy Vincent-Ward units came through the gates. Immediately they were shredded by the guns of Cobra Wing. The other knightmares backed off, reconsidering their attack. According to the radar they had surrounded the prison, so it was clear that they were not worried about the Black Dogs escaping. And so a stalemate occurred, which worked in the Black Dogs favor as they continued to load up the prisoners.

On the ground, Minami had put the Heaval-class tug in park and exited through the top hatch. He stood on one of the forks of the tug, watching the prisoners as they exited the building. The sight of their comrade clad in his old Black Knights uniform seemed to calm many of the more emotional prisoners, making their boarding process quick and smooth. Minami didn't care about this, however. His eyes scanned the crowed from behind his glasses as he searched for one prisoner in particular.

He felt his heart jump as he spotted what he was looking for: a mess of red hair in the midst of the prisoners. He ran forward and shoved someone aside, grabbing the redhead by the arm and leading her out of the crowd.

"Kallen!" he yelled over the sound of gunfire and roaring engines. "It's good to see you alive again!"

"Minami!" the redheaded girl cried, hugging the older man. She'd known him since their days as a tiny underground resistance, back before Zero and the Black Knights. "What's going on?" she asked.

"There's no time for that!" Minami said. "I brought you a present!" He turned and clambered back onto the tug, dropping through the hatch and hitting a couple of controls. The tug released the box it carried, which fell open as it hit the ground. Within was a sleek, deadly form with blood-red chrome armor.

"Oh my god," Kallen said breathlessly. "How did you…"

"No time!" Minami yelled over the tug's PA. "Get in, those Black Dogs will need your help!"

"Right!" Kallen ran for the box, snagging a feather-shaped key that was hanging from a hook in the wall of the box as she passed.

The entire ground shook suddenly, distracting Lincoln from the encircling Britannians. He looked back over his shoulder to see two knightmares emerging from a newly-formed hole in the side of the prison building. One craft was a Vincent-Ward with a custom gray paint job. The unit carried the form of a small girl in its left hand. Lincoln tried to bring his Thunderbolt around to shoot it down but his bullets were stopped by the second. This one was larger than most knightmares. It seemed to be based off of the Vincent-Ward, but with smaller shoulders and a wolflike head. It's hull was painted a deep blue with yellow accents, reminding Lincoln of the old Grizzly MBTs that had served during the New Zealand conflict. And much like the old Grizzlies, this unit gave Lincoln chills. He wasn't sure why, but this thing just felt dangerous. Maybe it was the twin MVS swords with lockable handles that it carried on its cockpit block. Or maybe it was the blue-painted cannon it carried on the small of its back, which Lincoln recognized as a cut-down rapid fire version of the Variable Ammunition Repulsion Impact Spitfire (VARIS) rifle that the CDF's intelligence division had gotten wind of two years ago. The weapon's munitions were still a mystery to the CDF, but what they did know what that the bullet carried a powerful charge with it that gave it enough destructive power to demolish a Bulldog heavy assault tank or a Sutherland knightmare in a single hit. This version wasn't quite as powerful but it made up for it with its rapid-fire capabilities, which matched those of the 33mm chainguns on a Thunderbolt.

"Sir, all prisoners except one accounted for!" one of the soldiers called over the comm. "We're ready to bug out!"

"No!" Cornelia's voice came over the comm, sounding close to hysterics. "You must save that girl as well!"

"No way!" Lincoln shouted. "We're in deep as it is! We can't go chasing after some little kid!"

"I gave you an order!" Cornelia roared. "Save Nunally! Save her!"

0o0o0

On the bridge of the _Midnight Angel,_ things were getting out of hand. Cornelia stood over one of the communications consoles yelling at Lincoln and his men over the radio while the rest of the crew watched. General Harris stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Dammit, I've done all I can!" Lincoln said. His video feed showed that his unit was locked in battle with the new knightmare. The new unit was quickly outpacing him and had already scored a hit on the side of his Thunderbolt, blowing away one of his ship's armor plates and sending the contents of the storage compartment it covered flying everywhere. Luckily the compartment only held field rations and an all-weather sleeping bag. "We have to pull out, now!"

"But…" Cornelia's voice lowered. She knew it was hopeless. There was no way the Black Dogs could save Nunally without losing their own lives and those of the other prisoners. The defeated princess nodded even though the Black Dog assault team couldn't see her. "Very well," she whispered. "Evacuate back to the carrier. Get yourselves out of there."

"Ten-four," came the reply from Lincoln. "All craft, let's shit and get! We've worn out our welcome here!"

Cornelia sank to her knees in front of the console, tears running from her eyes. "I'm sorry Nunally," she whispered. "I tried to save you, I swear."

"It's not over yet, Princess." Harris put a hand on the woman's shoulder as he watched the video feeds from his men. "We'll get her back."

0o0o0

The three Black Dog squads broke apart as the order came in to retreat. Lincoln and the members of Cobra Wing lit into the attacking knightmare with a renewed fury while Hellion took up a defensive position around the transports. Villetta and the members of Viper Wing led the charge through the blasted gates, taking out a number of Vincent-Ward units in a matter of moments. The Black Dogs opened a hole in the enemy's lines and the transports made a break for it, speeding off towards the bay.

The unknown knightmare made another pass at Lincoln and his wounded Thunderbolt. The pilot reacted quickly, firing one of the newly-installed Slash Harkens from the side of his ride. The rocket-propelled anchor buried itself into the wall of the prison, allowing him to reel the cable in and drag his Thunderbolt out of harm's way. He turned around as the anchor retracted, bringing his guns around to get a bead on the enemy knightmare's flank. The operator of the knightmare must have seen this coming, for the enemy turned as well and faced him down. A woman's voice called over the knightmare's PA system.

"You fight well," she said. "But I am Natalia Caldwell, the Knight of Four." Her vehicle stowed its gun on its back and brought a new weapon, the twin MVS's that locked together to form a double-ended saber, to bear. "I will not be defeated by rabble such as yourselves!"

Beside Lincoln, Miranda's ship had stopped moving. Lincoln wasn't sure why she'd stopped but he knew he had to get her moving again. The other members of Cobra were already on their way out, so it was just them and their enemy in the prison complex.

"Miranda, let's get out of here!" he said over the comm. "Miranda, you listening?"

"Y-yes," Miranda said shakily. "I'm ready. Let's do this."

The two Thunderbolts charged forward, only to be stopped by the enemy knightmare. It kicked out at Miranda, sending her vehicle spinning away. Lincoln wanted to help but he was forced to dodge in the other direct as the enemy's sword lashed out at his cockpit. He tried again only to be stopped by a beam of dark red energy that erupted from a small cannon concealed within the enemy's wrist.

"Damn, this thing's got a hadron blaster!" Lincoln said angrily. "Miranda, watch yourself!"

Something red and shiny rocketed past just as Miranda was rejoining him. Lincoln watched, awestruck, as a new knightmare joined the fray. This one had a humped back, a plumed head that reminded Link of the old rockstar Elvis Presley, and long spike-like shoulder pauldrons. The most notable feature of the new vehicle, however, was its right arm. The arm was red to the elbow, but where the left arm had a thickly-armored forearm with a mounted machine gun, the right was thick but barely armored and unpainted, with long clawlike fingers and some sort of red object in the right hand. Lincoln reached for his comm, intending to inquire as to who the pilot was. He didn't need to, however.

"Don't worry yourselves, Black Dogs!" the voice of a young woman said over the radio just as his finger touched the button. "Kallen Kouzuki reporting. Saving you guys is the least I can do to repay you for saving me and fixing my Guren!"

"Don't take any chances, Red," Lincoln said. "We're getting out of here. Just keep that bitch busy for five seconds while we bug out, then follow us home!"

"Right!" Kallen responded. Her knightmare and the enemy's went hand-to-hand. The Britannian knight struck with her sword and for a moment Lincoln thought the red unit was done for. To his surprise, however, the chromed right arm of the red knightmare grabbed the blade of the enemy's sword. Red light poured from between the fingers of the red unit and, to Lincoln's surprise, the metal of the enemy's sword began to bubble out. It was as if the weapon was being simultaneously heated and filled with air. The Britannian threw her sword away and backed away from the red knightmare in a hurry, switching to her VARIS once more. While this was happening Lincoln and Miranda shot past and made for the gate. Once they were clear the red knightmare broke free and followed the two as they raced to catch up with the fleeing transports.

"Looks like she's hanging back," Lincoln noted. "What the hell was that thing?"

"I heard one of the guards talking about it," Kallen said. "It's called the Joan. Apparently it's a new model made special for the new Knight of Four."

"Knight of Four?"

"The Knights of the Round are a group of Britannia's best knights, answering to the Emperor himself," Kallen explained. "I'll explain more later… assuming we survive this." At this the three vehicles sped up and closed the last of the gap between themselves and the transports.

0o0o0

Things went well for the Black Dogs as they approached the bay, but that would be short-lived. As the waterfront came into view the convoy stopped. Before them was a waterfront highway, and it was lined with hundreds of enemy knightmares. All of the waiting foes were armed to the teeth and all of their weapons were aimed right at the oncoming Black Dogs. The Black Dogs hadn't heard anything from Cornelia in some time, so now they stopped and took cover to go over their options. As they worked out the problem a new factor was introduced. One of the Britannian soldiers drove his knightmare forward and spoke over his PA.

"Attention terrorists! Surrender now and you will be spared! Continue to fight and we will kill you all!"

"Well fuck," Lincoln said. "Anyone know how we're getting out of here?"

"It looks like they've got the entire city closed off," Miranda said. "We're completely surrounded."

Within the cockpit of the rebuilt Guren MkII, Kallen found herself wishing that Zero was among them again. Despite his dark secret, the Britannian prince-turned-revolutionary had always been able to get them out of trouble. After learning of his terrifying and unnatural power the Black Knights had turned on their leader, but not all of them had approved of that plan. Kallen herself had believed in Zero with all her heart, which was why she thought of him now.

"Fuck this," Lincoln snarled. "All units, fall back. Make for the southern rail line. Maybe we can…"

"Belay that order!" Cornelia's voice said over the comm. "Head east until you reach the highway then take it north. The enemy devoted too much of their forces to stop you at the bay so they used police units to block off the highway." Lincoln smiled, a tiny bit happy to hear that the princess was back to her normal self.

"You hear her, boys!" he said. "To the highway we go!"

The assault team turned and tore off the way they'd come. There were no civilians in the area, meaning that the Britannian military had issued an evacuation notice. This helped the Black Dogs move quicker, and it only took a couple minutes of navigating the grid of streets before the fleeing convoy found the on-ramp to the highway they were looking for. Once again they found the road open for them, allowing the pilots to push their vehicles to the maximum speeds they were capable of. The faster combat units stayed close to the transports like watchful sheepdogs protecting the flock.

0o0o0

Aboard the _Midnight Angel,_ Cornelia was busy trying to plan out an escape route for the Black Dogs. The police barricade was an easy target, but according to the radar feeds from the snooper scouts there were a number of military divisions that posed a threat to the escaping soldiers. Two large companies of knightmares were already in place to intercept and possibly overwhelm the Black Dogs. If those units cut the escaping forces off then the Black Dogs would have to fight their way through the rest of the pursuing Britannian forces in order to find another escape route. The enemy would surely overpower the handful of assault craft and there would be nowhere for them to run.

Hopelessness filled the former Britannian princess as the enemy began to move to intercept the Black Dogs, just as she had feared they would. There would be nowhere for the strike team to run and no way for them to escape. She had led these people to their deaths and now all she could do was sit back and watch…

At that moment, however, the princess remembered something from a few hours previously. The words of the song that had played on the radio when she and Lincoln had been in the hangar bay came back to her once more.

_If I break the glass then I'll have to fly,_

_ There's no one to catch me if I take a dive._

_ I'm scared of changing, the days stay the same,_

_ The world is spinning but only in gray._

It was as if those words held the answer she needed. She had been been so busy looking at the problem from her own point of view, from within the shell of her own fears and experiences, that she had forgotten the power at her disposal. She just needed to think outside the box, so to speak. If she were to step away from herself and accept the world around her, she might be able to figure out some way to change the fates of the seemingly doomed strike team. She stared at the screen once more, trying to think of some possible way to save those men.

The problem was the enemy's strength. There were hundreds of knightmares down there. Of course, she knew very well how the Black Dogs could handle themselves against massed knightmares, but with the transports to worry about they would be at a major disadvantage. What they needed was a hole, some place in the enemy lines to break through. Were it her in command, Cornelia would have sent in knightmares armed with heavy weapons. Unfortunately they didn't have such weapons… or did they?

"General Hardin, McHale said that this ship has assault units aboard." The princess turned and gazed at the general, who nodded. "What exactly do you have?"

"We've got a few Mastiffs, they're a modified version of the CDF's Bulldog assault tank. There's a few Attila walkers down in the hold too, and I think we might have some old Longbow howitzers floating around. None of the new models though." Hardin raised an eyebrow at her questioning. "Why?"

"I'll be taking those units and a squad of your main battle tanks into the field," Cornelia said. "Those men down there need help. If we move now we can save them."

"That's not your call to make," Hardin said warningly. "Don't forget, you're still on thin ice."

"You gave me command of the ground element of this mission," Cornelia said as she turned and made her way towards the door. "I'll be taking my command to the ground in order to see to it that this mission is successful." Her lips parted in a smile. "If the king doesn't lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow?" The quote was from someone she'd lost in this war. She was determined to at least learn from his mistakes… and his example.

"Very well then, Cornelia." Hardin turned to one of the consoles and began entering commands. "I'll allow this, but don't even think of messing it up. Or else I might have to let McHale have his way with you."

Within minutes a trio of heavy transports took off from the hangar bay of the carrier. Each transport consisted of a curved body ending in two large, downward-angled wings, a pair of massive engines that could rotate to provide lift, thrust, and maneuvering, and a large boxlike cargo bay mounted beneath the body. One of the ships held a squad of six Sabre tanks, sleek twin-engine hovertanks with a central mounted anti-tank cannon and twin hood-mounted machine guns as well as a mine dropper in the tail of the craft. Their cannons were mounted on what appeared to be a large turret, but the gun didn't actually rotate like a traditional tank. Rather, the entire craft had to turn just the way the Thunderbolts did. These tanks were much slower than the Thunderbolts but they had plenty of horsepower for jobs such as towing, far thicker armor plating, and a heavier payload. The only weak point was the canopy, which was set just beneath the base of the cannon. The next transport held two Attila walkers and a recently-repaired Burai, which was a rebuilt version of the Glasgow, the predecessor to the Sutherland. Cornelia li Britannia piloted the knightmare while Black Dog pilots ran the walkers. The Attila Landmaster units were heavy assault platforms consisting of two large legs that hooked in to a central body. The cockpit, weapons, and engine of the vehicle were all slung between the legs of the craft, maximizing its balance and speed and giving it the ability to mount the heaviest of CDF weapons. These units carried high-powered laser cannons as well as smaller, rapid-fire cold-fusion lasers that tapped into pre-charged batteries within the craft. The final transport carried two Mastiff tanks and a Longbow howitzer. The Mastiffs were much like a sleek, futuristic version of a traditional tank. Each had treads like a tank, a rotating turret like a tank, and extremely heavy armor like a tank. What regular tanks didn't have that the Mastiffs did, however, were long-range plasma cannons large enough for a man to crawl into and a pair of 33mm machine guns mounted on either side of the main barrel. Traditional tanks also didn't have an engine running on highly refined hydrogen fuel, also known as hydroline. The Longbow howitzer was an old model still sporting the blue hull and red-and-black hazard stripes of the first Black Dog biometal units. It was a short, squat hovercraft with a powerful V-thruster engine and four large cannon barrels. Its computer-assisted aiming allowed it to lob artillery shells with enough accuracy to hit a target two kilometers away, even a moving target. The massive shells it fired had enough power to take out a mighty Britannian mobile command base in just a couple hits.

The three dropships sped off at top speed, breaking the sound barrier despite their ridiculously un-aerodynamic shapes. Within the cockpit of her knightmare, Cornelia was praying that they would reach the rendezvous in time. If not, their rebellion would more than likely end just as quickly as it began.

0o0o0

Lincoln took the lead as the convoy reached the police barricade. There were eight of the white police-issue Sutherlands waiting for them there, along with a dozen or so regular police cars and around twenty officers on foot. They'd set up sawhorse-style wooden barricades in order to stop the oncoming forces, a clear sign that they had no idea what they were about to be hit by. Link grinned behind his visor. They would make it after all.

"Light 'em up!" he said over his comm. He was answered by the rest of Cobra Wing opening fire on the knightmares. Once again the 33mm AP bullets meant to take down biometal tanks and heavier knightmare frames tore through the police units with ease. The rest of the civilian cops scattered, allowing the convoy to smash through the barricade at top speed. It seemed as if they were home free…

A warning beeped from Lincoln's radar and he checked the display. There behind them was a single knightmare flying just above the ground. In addition to that, the snoopers had picked up movement ahead of them. He wasn't sure what the enemy was, but it looked to be a large group, maybe thirty or more. To make matters worse, the Brits had other squads moving in behind them. They were being surrounded.

"Lincoln, it's Cornelia. Do you read?" The princess's voice filtered through the comm, barely audible over what sounded like dropship engines.

"I hear ya," Link said. "I hope to hell you've got a plan."

"Keep moving towards the enemy in front of you," Cornelia said. "Ignore everything else and hit the enemy directly to the front. We'll help you break through."

Before Lincoln could inquire as to what the princess was talking about the road exploded next to his ride, sending bits of melted asphalt up across his hull. He pulled back on the controls, putting the Thunderbolt into reverse. Within the ship's engine the turbine blades rotated, reversing the airflow while keeping the engine shaft spinning in the same direction. This and a quick nudge of the controls sent the Thunderbolt spinning around 180 degrees and driving backwards.

To Lincoln's dismay he found that the enemy that was following them was the Knight of Four. The enemy was firing with that rapid-fire cannon again, coming dangerously close to the fleeing Black Dogs but not hitting thanks to the pilots and their maneuvering skills. While the rest of the Black Dogs continued onward, Lincoln shoved his controls forward again and tore off towards the enemy behind them. He found himself joined by the yellow-painted rebuilt Sutherland piloted by Villetta Nu, which flew overhead like a shot towards the intrusive Knight. Lincoln could already see the first enemy knightmares closing in on them from behind. Their retreat was already cut off…

"All hounds keep going! Fuck anything in your path, guys!" Link pushed his controls forward, sending his Thunderbolt rocketing the opposite direction. "The Brit and I will keep these jokers busy until you're clear! Cobra Two has command!" The other Black Dogs called out their acknowledgements, allowing Lincoln to focus on the enemy before him. "Alright Nu," he called. "Ready to dance?"

"Affirmative," Villetta called back. "But one question first. Is this going to be one of those 'I'll take the hundred on the left, you take the hundred on the right' situations?"

"Something like that," Lincoln said with a laugh. "But first I think we need to do some friendly jousting with our dear Knight friend here."

"Understood." Villetta fell in formation at that point, landing behind the speeding Thunderbolt and matching his pace. Link's guns spoke and sent a hail of lead towards the oncoming Knight. The bullets didn't do much against the other Frame's heavy armor, but it provoked the enemy into attacking him which was exactly what he wanted. As the two sides grew closer Link fired his maneuvering thrusters, sending his Thunderbolt over the guardrail and off to the side. At the same time Villetta struck, bringing her sword down on the enemy knightmare. The enemy knightmare pilot reacted by bringing her arm up to block the incoming sword. She counterattacked then by bringing her rifle to bear, but before she could fire Lincoln let fly with a Widow fire-and-forget missile, which impacted on the side of the enemy's weapon and blew its delicate innards to shreds.

Apparently angry, the enemy threw her now-useless weapon at Lincoln. Link pulled his Thunderbolt out of the way just in time and the wrecked gun bounced off of the particular patch of ground he'd hovered over only an instant before. As it was debris fanned up from the weapon's impact, peppering the side of Link's vehicle. Link ignored the debris and rushed the enemy once more, firing a stream of bullets up at the enemy.

"Cobra Lead, pull back!" Villetta called over the radio. "I'll cover your retreat!" Her knightmare moved closer to the enemy, attempting to distract their foe.

"Negative," Link replied. "Get back to the transports and cover their escape. I've got this."

Unknown to anyone but Lincoln, the shrapnel he'd taken in that last pass had ruptured one of his fuel lines. Counting for the fuel being lost, he had a few minutes at best and mere seconds in the worst case scenario. Either way, it was clear that he wasn't going to be returning to the _Angel _with the others.

"Very well," Villetta said, beginning her retreat.

Lincoln opened his throttle wide and punched his maneuvering thrusters, sending his vehicle in a circle around the enemy knightmare. His guns continued to spray lead up at the opposing craft with little effect. His Widow missiles did a bit more damage, knocking the enemy off-balance momentarily.

The enemy knight lashed out at him once more, kicking his Thunderbolt away like a ball. The light assault craft bounced end over end, coming to a halt a good distance down the highway. That was the final straw for the wounded vehicle. The turbine engine spluttered and died and the Thunderbolt refused to lift itself from the ground.

"Aw hell," Lincoln muttered, watching the massive enemy knightmare frame approaching through the empty space that his shattered canopy had once occupied.

0o0o0

"All craft, open fire!"

At Cornelia's command the Black Dog heavy units began firing. The Mastiff tanks rocked back on their treads as their oversized cannons blasted massive bolts of superheated plasma at the back of the Britannian lines, decimating any knightmare that was unlucky enough to be in the gunsights of those heavy cannons. The Attila walkers sent lances of greenish-white light across the open terrain, opening wide holes in the armor of whatever they hit and often punching through three or four separate craft with each shot. The Longbow's quartet of cannons sent high-explosive shells on high, arcing trajectories over the heads of the other Black Dogs and into the Britannian ranks. The ensuing chaos was enough to weaken the Britannians to the point where the rapidly-approaching convoy could break through. Cheers erupted throughout the Black Dog forces as the transports and their escorts made it through safely.

Cornelia did a quick headcount on the approaching vehicles, noticing one missing. Just as she was about to inquire she heard Cobra Two come over the comm.

"This is Cobra Two! Flight Lead is down! Say again, Flight Lead is down! Doesn't look like he ejected!"

Cornelia hit the accelerator on her knightmare, sending the craft straight towards the Britannian battle lines. "Assault team, begin your retreat! Heavy units hold position, wait for my return!"

The Black Dogs did as ordered; the transports and their defenders made their way towards the ocean while the heavy assault craft continued to pound the broken Britannian lines. Cornelia's knightmare quickly vanished into the enemy formations, her progress obvious by the battered forms of various Britannian units being torn apart when they got in her way.

0o0o0

This looked to be the end for Lincoln McHale. The enemy unit was less than a hundred yards from him now and approaching slowly, having taken some leg damage courtesy of his Widow missiles. Lincoln tried once more to get his Thunderbolt moving but with no luck. The engine simply would not start. It wasn't exactly surprising, given the damage he'd taken.

The enemy was less than fifty yards away now, still approaching as fast as its damaged leg components would allow. Lincoln closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling his heart rate slowing. He was about to die here... but he could at least try to fight back.

The pilot reached around the side of his seat and unhooked his pulse rifle, putting the weapon into sniper mode. He brought the rifle to his shoulder and took aim, only to see the enemy suddenly retreating. A squeal of rubber met Lincoln's ears and he looked around just in time to see a yellow-painted Burai jump lightly over his downed vehicle and landed in between himself and the enemy. The Burai lashed out with an old Britannian rocket lance. The long golden weapon punched into the enemy unit's armor easily, disabling the knightmare. The cockpit block of the enemy unit blew free of the rest of the craft, flying off in an arc back towards the settlement.

The new arrival turned towards Lincoln's downed ship and knelt down beside it. The knightmare carefully picked up the trashed Thunderbolt and cradled it in its arms. As the knightmare began moving back towards the now-scattered Britannian lines and the waiting dropships beyond, Lincoln keyed his helmet radio and spoke into his microphone.

"Identify yourself, pilot!" he said.

"Did you forget, Lincoln?" Cornelia replied over the comm. "You promised to end my life. Until then, you are not allowed to die. Don't make me have to repeat that."

Lincoln smiled and leaned back in his seat. He wasn't sure how he felt about being rescued by his nemesis, but he was grateful to her all the same.

_(A/N: And that's chapter two! I don't plan for this project to be nearly as long as Feet First!, because I have a third project I'm working on that I want to dedicate time to as well as finishing my aforementioned Halo/Freezing crossover. So until then, my lovelies, stay groovy!)_


	3. Chapter 3: Behind Enemy Lines

_(A/N: Something I forgot to mention: The Red vs Blue reference in Chapter 2 was intentional. I'd had that scene in mind ever since I played the original Fleshstorm mod for BZ2 and seen the Puma LBTs. Figured I might as well use it. Oh, and another fun bit of trivia: the name of the CDF carrier, the Midnight Angel, came from a favorite song of mine. The song is Shadows of the Night by Pat Benatar, and the name Midnight Angel was also the name I gave my first car. I was sitting in the car with a buddy of mine and trying to come up with a name when that song came on and it just stuck. So now, years later, the same name has been applied to the central setting of this story.)_

One of the _Midnight Angel's _recreation rooms had been converted by the crew into something every bit as important to the well-being of the Black Dog personnel: a bar. The long room had a number of tables, an old jukebox, pool tables, dart boards, and even a pinball machine. The top score on the pinball machine was currently held by "MCAD" at just over a hundred and twenty one thousand points.

There were only three people and the bartender in the bar as the clock struck one in the morning on the night after the assault on Tokyo. Two engineers were playing cards at one of the tables, and Captain Lincoln McHale sat at the bar itself with a drink in front of him. The pilot's head, arm, and torso were all heavily bandaged as he had been shaken around rather brutally during his crash. He had been released from the infirmary only recently, and his first stop had been the ship's bar.

The bartender, a battle-scarred yet still beautiful blonde woman several years Lincoln's senior, leaned against the counter and watched the younger pilot for a few moments. "So, did you hear about the excitement you missed?" she asked finally.

"Nah," Link said. "Anything good?"

"Britannian battlecruiser," the bartender said, causing Link to choke on his drink. "They didn't fire a single shot though. Just wanted to deliver a message to that princess."

"What kind of message?" Link asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

It was a voice behind Lincoln that answered the question. "It was an invitation," Cornelia li Britannia said, approaching the bar and sitting on the stool next to Lincoln.

The Black Dog pilot gave the fallen royal next to him a disgusted glance then went back to his drink. "Why does trouble always find me in a bar?" he grumbled.

"I'm delighted to see you too," Cornelia said, rolling her eyes. She ordered a drink and waited for it to be served before speaking further. "How are you feeling?" she asked before taking a sip and grimacing at the taste of the Confederate whiskey.

"Like I got hit by a train," Link said. "So are you gonna elaborate on that invitation?"

"It was from my brother," Cornelia said quietly. "Apparently he'd holding a celebration in the Britannian homeland and he wants me to be there in order to discuss a possible treaty between the Confederacy and the Empire."

"So what's he really want?" Link asked. Cornelia smiled, realizing that her new drinking companion was sharper than he let on.

"More than likely he wants to investigate your people," she said, taking another drink. "But there's one thing I can't ignore, and that is the fact that he has Nunnally. He's offered to return her to me once a treaty is signed between your nation and the Empire."

"Speaking of which, just who is this Nunnally chick?" Lincoln asked. "Judging by the way you went apeshit during the op I'm guessing she's not just another POW."

"She is my sister," Cornelia said. "She, myself, and my brother are the only surviving members of the Royal Family. She is my motivation in all of this. I'm trying to build a better world for her more than anything else." The princess couldn't help but smile, realizing just how much she sounded like another Britannian royal.

"Then what are you gonna do?" Lincoln asked. "You know damn well my country won't bow to Britannia, and I'm sure the Emperor won't just hand over his best bargaining chip."

"This is true," Cornelia said. "Which is why I have come to ask you a favor."

At this Lincoln raised his eyebrows. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"I would like Cobra Wing's assistance in a rescue mission," Cornelia said. "I know where Nunnally is going to be. I will attend this party of Schniezel's, and while I am in his grasp your men will intercept and rescue Nunnally."

"You know I can't fly," Lincoln said. "And on top of it my ride is still wrecked."

"I do know," Cornelia said. "That's why I want you to accompany me to the party. Schniezel would never believe that I was allowed to make decisions on behalf of the Confederacy, and it is customary for Britannian nobles to attend social events with a date."

"Hell, Princess," Link said with a grin. "Are you sure this isn't just you making a move on me?"

"If I wanted you, pilot, you and I would already be locked in your bedchambers." The two card-playing engineers looked up from their game, both whistling at the princess's words. Cornelia closed her eyes, a faint pinkish tinge creeping into her face as she continued. "This is simply the best way to ensure the success of the mission. So, how about it? Will you join me?"

"I'm not sure I like this... but I still owe you one. And if we can use Nunnally in the coming battle I'm more than happy to go in. But I won't order my men to do this. If any member of Cobra is coming along it's because they've volunteered, got it?"

"I understand," Cornelia said. "Thank you, Lincoln."

"Just remember, we're square after this," Link said, going back to his drink.

0o0o0

Plans were laid with the usual CDF speed and efficiency. Cobra Wing had been called together in one of the conference rooms, although Miranda seemed to be quite out of it. While the team talked Lincoln kept stealing glances at the older woman. She seemed to be staring off into space a lot and would jump as if surprised when someone spoke to her.

Cornelia also seemed to notice the woman's state but chose to ignore it, instead focusing on the mission at hand. Her hand traced over the map of Los Angeles displayed on the table screen, indicating different areas of the city.

"This is The Palace of the Angels," she explained. "It's a summer retreat for the royal family. I myself spent much time there as a child, so I remember it's halls perfectly. If the meeting place is to be here, then there is only one place Nunnally could be held." She indicated a large, imposing looking structure set somewhat distant from the palace. "Los Angeles Inter-Colony Re-socialization Center. They hold some of the biggest political deviants from all over the world there. By 'political deviants,' I of course mean people who have moved against the Empire."

"Charming," Lincoln muttered.

"Indeed," Cornelia said. "Lincoln and I will be attending my brother's party. In the mean time, the rest of Cobra Wing will need to cause a diversion. I recommend hitting the military refueling yard here." She pointed at a spot on the coastline. "There are large stores of fuel as well as stockpiles of munitions and energy fillers for their Knightmares. If you blow the energy fillers it should cause a chain-reaction throughout the base, which will be more than enough to draw away the bulk of the military. At that point one of your Thunderbolt craft can sneak through the city's sewer system. There's a secret entrance under the city for transporting prisoners in secret. The infiltrator will sneak in here-" She indicated a marked location near the coast. "- and proceed to the entrance. You'll have to to shoot your way in and out, but it should be easy to lose the enemy in the tunnels once you escape the prison."

"And what about this so-called alliance?" one of the other pilots asked.

"I'll try to work it out once Nunnally is secure," Cornelia said. "More than likely I will have to do something drastic, but I'll do my best."

"I'll be there too, just to keep things from getting crazy." Lincoln grinned. "Not that I mind things getting crazy."

"Once the diversion has been executed, that team will fall back into the ocean." Cornelia continued. "The pilot rescuing Nunnally will join them there as well. I'll give Xianglin detailed maps of the sewer system and instruct her on the best routes through the various areas. Lincoln and I will be using our transport to escape, although if it comes down to it we can use one of the Britannian vehicles instead."

"So you'll pretty much make it up as you go?" Miranda asked, coming back to reality at last.

"Pretty much," Lincoln said. "But you know better than anyone that that's what I'm best at."

Miranda nodded but still looked worried. "Then I will be the infiltrator. I'll take the sewer route."

"Are you sure?" Soria asked, also concerned for her sister-in-arms. "You've been kinda loopy since the last operation."

"All the more reason for me to do this," Miranda said. "It'll help me get my head on straight."

"Miranda," Link said, standing up. "Outside. I want to talk to you alone."

Miranda did as she was told, following the younger McHale out of the room. Once outside he turned to face her, looking like a worried older brother once more. "Something happened to you when we ran across that knight. Wanna fill me in?"

Miranda hesitated, looking up into Lincoln's eyes. "That woman, Natalia..." she muttered eventually. "We have history."

"Is it going to affect the mission?" Link asked.

"No sir," Miranda replied.

"Then I'll let you keep your secrets. But you had damn well better come back alive." He hugged her briefly, a rare show of affection. "I'll be seriously fucking pissed if you die on me, sis."

"I'll get it together Link," she said. "I promise."

"Good." Lincoln opened the door to the conference room once more. "Let's get back to work."

0o0o0

While the Midnight Angel cruised towards the Britannian coastline, the recently-rescued rebels of the former Black Knights were settling into their new home aboard the ship. They had all been given a choice: join the crew and their mission, or be transported back to Confederate territory and allowed to live as they saw fit. Every one of the prisoners had decided to help with the mission, even former members of Emperor Lelouche's cabinet.

Currently, several of the rescued persons were having a lively discussion about their new situation. A skinny Japanese man with a red headband named Tamaki seemed a bit irate about it all despite having agreed to fight.

"We should all pack our bags and get the hell out of here!" he said to the others, slamming his hands down on the table they sat at. The rest of the people in the room, a cargo hold full of spare parts that had been hastily filled with bunks and dividers until proper quarters could be assigned, gave him a startled look. "These Confederate idiots are taking on the entire world here! We're all gonna die if we stay!"

"So you're just going to run away?" Kallen, the redheaded half-Britannian girl who piloted the crimson knightmare Guren, said angrily. "They saved our lives, and from what I heard a small handful of them stopped an entire army led by Cornelia herself."

"Exactly!" This came from the youngest member of the group, a dark-haired Japanese girl named Kaguya. She was just pushing sixteen but already far wiser and more skilled as a leader than most of the adults in the room. "They've managed to hide an entire nation from the entire world for all these years! If anyone can fight against Britannia, it's them."

"Are you kidding me?" Tamaki said angrily. "We're all screwed! All we've got is this one measly carrier that looks like it's falling apart! And they want to take on the entire world with just a couple knightmares and those flying tanks? There's no way they can win! And besides, they're not even wanted by their own nation! This is probably a suicide mission mean to get rid of them once and for all!"

Oghi, a tall Japanese man who had always been a natural leader, spoke at this point. "We've got no other choice. Britannia wants us dead and these guys stopped that. We owe it to them. And I personally believe in what they're fighting for. Don't you want to see a world that isn't living in fear of Britannia?"

"Well, yeah," Tamaki muttered. "But I don't see-"

"Then you should fight for it!" Oghi said loudly, drowning out the other man's arguments. "If we all die, then we die for something worth dying for! If that's how my life ends then I'll be more than happy to go out knowing that my life meant something in the end." His words were met with applause from the others. Even Tamaki couldn't argue further. "So, rather than arguing among ourselves we should see how we can help around here." He pointed to a tall Britannian man in glasses and a shorter woman beside him who was conversing with a short, bespectacled Britannian girl. "You two were knightmare engineers, right? The Black Dogs would be grateful for some help in their engineering bay. That goes for you too, Nina." The girl with glasses jumped as her name was spoken. "You invented the most powerful weapon of mass destruction in the world! I'm sure their weapons techs would love to let you take a look at their armaments." He turned his attention to a trio of women who were chatting away nearby. "You three were the bridge crew on the Ikaruga. Maybe you could pitch in on the bridge here." The girls all nodded excitedly, seeming eager to start doing their part once more. "And Tohdoh..." he glanced at a stern-looking Asian man standing by himself, although another woman was watching him with concern. "You're a master of battle. You could be a great asset to the Black Dogs." Tohdoh nodded at this. Oghi smiled and looked around the bay at the others. "All of you have something you can do to help. Each and every one of you have something that you can contribute to the CDF and their cause. It's time we stop acting like refugees and remember our pride as Knights for Justice! Or did we give that up when Schniezel turned on us?!" Many of the others shook their heads. "Then let's get out there and help! I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired of just sitting around waiting for someone to tell me what to do."

The entire group of rescued prisoners all turned and headed out of the room, many still talking among themselves. Tamaki stayed back and watched them go. "So what about me, ol' buddy?" he asked of Ohgi. "What can I contribute?"

"Why don't you go see if you can help out in the kitchens or something?" Ohgi asked. "I'm sure the staff there would enjoy having someone who knew how to cook something other than boring old army food."

0o0o0

With only hours before the party, Cornelia li Britannia was in her room preparing for the event. One of the engineers, who had been a seamstress before killing her cheating husband and deciding to serve her time in the Black Dogs rather than just sitting around in a prison cell, had cannibalized material from several old uniforms and quickly sewn together a dress for the princess to wear. It was black and came up to her chest, with transparent fabric extending up the upper portion of her chest and ending in a black collar around her neck. The collar had been adorn with a small gold ornament in the shape of the Black Dog insignia. It was actually made from scraps of biometal that had been painted gold, but it still looked nice against the black fabric. Wearing it, Cornelia still looked and felt as if the dress had been made by one of the royal tailors rather than a grease-stained engineer aboard a warship.

A knock sounded at the door, causing the princess to stop fussing with her hair and open it. Outside her quarters stood Miranda Caldwell, looking far less hostile than the last time she had spoken to the princess in private. "May I speak with you?" she asked in a low voice.

"Certainly," Cornelia said warily. "Come in."

Miranda entered the room as Cornelia stood aside, glancing around as she did so. The room was pretty plain and matched the rest of the crew rooms on the ship. The only differences were a few decorations, mainly a tattered Black Knights flag that hung on the wall and a photo of a Britannian man that Miranda recognized as Cornelia's personal knight on the table beside the bunk. She stood nervously, not sure what to do.

"Sit down," Cornelia said, indicating the bed. Miranda sat, careful not to touch the princess's normal suit which had been tossed on the bed while the woman changed clothes. Cornelia herself sat in the metal chair in front of her desk, watching the Black Dog with interest and a bit of nervousness. It was clear that she expected to be attacked at any moment. "So, what can I do for you?" she asked.

Miranda hesitated once more, gathering herself. "You're fighting against your own brother," she said finally. "One day you might even have to kill him. And yet you carry on. How?"

Cornelia's eyes narrowed for a moment, then she smiled sadly. "My family was always fighting against each other for the right to the throne. This ensured that the strongest would lead our nation. But yes, I am fighting against a brother I loved dearly. The thought of spilling the blood of a family member hurt at one point, but I came to the realization that this had to be done. What Schniezel is doing is evil. Even though I'm his sister... no, because I'm his sister, I can't allow him to do this. I have to stop him. That is how I can fight against my own brother, even take his life if I have to."

"I see," Miranda said quietly. She tried to process this concept but it was clear that she was having trouble doing so.

"You're Miranda Caldwell, the daughter of Duke Everest Caldwell. Right?" Miranda nodded. "Then if I'm not mistaken, the knight you met was Natalia Caldwell, your cousin." Again, Miranda nodded. "I see. You're feeling regret at having to face down your cousin and childhood friend, even though her mother was the woman responsible for you family's murders." Cornelia leaned back in her chair and smiled. "I understand why you've been so uneasy. It's commendable that you have those kinds of feelings, but you musn't let them get in the way of your mission. Your beloved brother Lincoln, your friends on this ship, and everyone in the Confederacy are all depending on you. You stand as the defense between them and the machinations of Britannia."

"But what if Natalia and I face again?" Miranda asked.

"Just remember that she has chosen the path of her mother, a woman who mercilessly slaughtered blood relatives in a play for power. You, however, have chosen a different path." Cornelia leaned forward and took the other woman's hand in her own, a surprising gesture for the usually cold princess. "You have chosen the path of freedom and justice, the same path that your father and Lincoln both walk. You must choose whether or not to honor those two men in your actions. Once you make that decision, the rest will fall into place for you."

"Thank you, Cornelia," Miranda said. She stood up, looking a bit more resolved now. "I'll be leaving now."

"You're welcome, Caldwell," Cornelia said. "Good luck out there."

0o0o0

As the Midnight Angel finally arrived at her waiting point several miles off of the California coast, a single APC lauched from the hangar bay. The APC, known as an Orca, was a low-altitude VTO/L aircraft that could carry a complement of thirty armed soldiers and was armed with a pair of nose-mounted 20mm miniguns that could pump thousands of rounds into a target in a matter of seconds. The aircraft had a rounded shape and a set of four powerful engines at the back. Between and slightly below these engines was the troop hatch. The back wall of the vehicle folded down to serve as a ramp, allowing the soldiers to disembark quickly and easily. The ship was painted blue with a black underside and was, as expected, emblazoned with the emblems of the Black Dogs.

The APC quickly arrived at the Palace of the Angels, a massive estate on a hilltop overlooking the city. The entire estate was immaculately kept, with lush gardens and even an artificially-planted forest on the grounds. At the top of the hill was an enormous mansion with marble pillars, another garden with a fountain in the front, and five stories. There rest of the guests had already arrived and were reveling under the light of the setting sun. The APC landed in a clear area in the garden, the biometal armor scraping against the brickwork of the clearing as it touched down.

The various guests, mainly Britannian nobles with a few military officers scattered here and there, all turned to watch as the back hatch of the craft opened up. Dozens of armed guards lined the premises, and as the ship landed they tightened their grips on their weapons. Many people were uneasy at their emperor's decision to invite the enemy to a party, but no one was going to question his word.

Lincoln McHale stepped off of the transport first, dressed in his dress uniform. The uniform was black with two yellow stripes down each pantleg and the Black Dog emblem on the right side of the chest. The left part of the chest was decorated with a number of campaign ribbons and medals. The uniform was topped off with a black beret with the Confederate flag, a red background with a blue X and stars down each stripe, on the front. _(Picture the real-world Confederate Flag, a symbol of HISTORY not RACISIM by the way.)_ He had removed his bandages, showing a large bruise and several cuts on his head and face.

Link stood to the side while Cornelia disembarked. She was wearing the black dress that the engineer aboard the Midnight Angel had made for her along with a pair of black high-heeled shoes and a yellow shawl. Her hair was tied up in a bun with a long lock of hair running down each side of her face and down her chest. No one, not even the most discerning among the group, could tell that the shawl was actually made from old firewall insulation from the turret of a Mastiff. The thing looked as if it had been made by a master tailor, a testament to the skill and resourcefulness of the engineer that had made it.

"Presenting Princess Cornelia li Britannia, second princess of Britannia, and her escort Captain Lincoln McHale of the Confederate Defense Force!" This came from a short, bald man who had quickly made his way towards the APC. The man bowed to Lincoln and Cornelia. "May I escort the two of you to the Emperor?"

"That will not be necessary," a voice said over the crowd. The group instantly parted, allowing a man in a finely-tailored white suit to step through. He was tall, blonde, and beautiful. "Welcome, sister," Schniezel said. "It is good to see you in person again."

"I do hope you don't intend to shoot me again." Cornelia said in a fairly hostile tone.

"Of course not!" Schniezel replied. "I have invited you and your friend here so that we may promote peace, not death and destruction. I have a matter to attend to, but until then I ask that you eat, drink, and enjoy yourself. I do hope your companion knows how to dance. The band is quite talented." He turned and left at that point, leaving a younger woman in a long white coat and bearing a striking similarity to Miranda behind. This woman approached Link, eyeing him up.

"So, am I right in assuming that you are the pilot I faced in Tokyo?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Link said, recognizing her voice as that of the Knight of Four he had been shot down by. "Hope you're not gonna try anything tonight. I'd hate to embarrass you in front of your esteemed emperor and all of these nobles."

"And I would hate to have to watch you get rescued by the princess here once again," Natalia shot back. "It might shake whatever hold you have over Her Majesty." She turned and left at that point, leaving Lincoln fuming.

"I'd love to put a bullet to that bitch," he muttered to Cornelia.

"All in due time, Captain," Cornelia muttered back. "Until then play nicely with the Britannians. We don't want to cause any trouble until it's time to do so."

"Roger that," Link said. "So now what?"

In response Cornelia took Lincoln by the hand and led him into the crowd. The others backed away, partially out of respect for the princess's station and partially out of fear of the Black Dog. Cornelia ignored them and led Link to the dance floor just as the band was picking up once again. She turned to Lincoln with a small smile on her purple-painted lips and took his other hand. "You're supposed to dance at a party, soldier."

Link wrapped one arm around her waist and began moving in time with the music, leading her skillfully. A look of surprise came over the woman's face, much to Link's amusement. "What?" he asked. "Didn't think an uncivilized brute like me could dance?"

"No," Cornelia said. "Well, maybe. It is a bit surprising that you would have such a talent."

"I took lessons as a kid," Link said with a laugh, although his body tensed slightly when he realized that the other Britannians were beginning to dance around them as well. "There was a girl I liked back in school and I wanted to impress her."

"And how did that go?" Cornelia asked.

"Not good," Link admitted. "I asked her out and got laughed at. Apparently no one wanted to dance with the kid that spent his days daydreaming about hovertanks and building jet engines in his back yard."

"I thought you came from a prominent family?" Cornelia said, surprised.

"Yeah, but I didn't let that on. I'm not the 'nobility' type, never was." Link grinned. "Everyone just assumed that I had the same name and that was it."

"Well, you seem noble enough to me," Cornelia said. "Not like the rich and powerful, but true nobility. A man who would lay his life down for a total stranger in danger. Much like the knights in old stories."

"A knight, huh?" Link chuckled. "I can't exactly see myself facing down a dragon to rescue a beautiful princess from her tower."

"But haven't you already?" Cornelia said coyly. "Aren't I a beautiful princess? And I'd say that the Holy Britannian Empire is rather dragonlike in its present state."

"Don't flatter yourself," Link grumbled. "Don't forget, I still want to kill you. I'm only working with you because it's for the good of my people."

"A truly knightlike thing to say," Cornelia said.

The dancing continued for some time. As Schniezel hadn't returned from his 'business' and Link was tired of the music, the two stepped off to the side and sat down at an open table. Lincoln left momentarily to fetch them both drinks, returning moments later with two glasses of an expensive fruit drink that contained no alcohol. He sipped his drink and watched the other partygoers, analyzing potential threats among the crowd.

Emperor Schniezel finally returned while the two were sitting there, escorted by a pair of beautiful women in similar white coats to Natalia. He approached the table Cornelia and Lincoln sat at, smiling brightly at the sight of them. "I do hope you're enjoying yourselves," he said. "It's important to take time for revelry in times like these to keep ourselves sharp."

"When do we get to the negotiations?" Link asked impatiently. "I'm already bored with this extravagant waste of resources."

"All in due time, my dear Captain," Schniezel said. "For the moment, I would like to catch up with my beloved sister. Perhaps you could show one of these ladies your skill on the dance floor?" He indicated the women escorting him, who both eyed Lincoln up with interest.

"Who are they, your harem?" Link grumbled. "I have no interest in dancing with cheap whores."

"Captain McHale, mind your manners!" Cornelia snapped.

Schniezel laughed easily at the comment. "Don't worry yourself, dear sister," he said. "I expected the captain to be on-edge here in enemy territory, surrounded by evil Britannians. And to answer your question, Captain, these women are some of my finest warriors. Allow me to introduce Lady Monica Williams, the Knight of Seven." The taller of the two women, a redhead with bright blue eyes and a round face, stepped forward and bowed.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said politely to Lincoln. "I've heard much of your deeds in Tokyo against Lady Natalia."

"The beauty on my left," Schniezel continued, "Is none other than Lady Victoria Phillips, the Knight of One herself." Victoria, a shorter but no less attractive blonde with dark brown eyes and an icy gaze, simply nodded. "She is the finest warrior alive, second only to dear Cornelia herself. So, will you honor one of them with a dance, Captain?"

Link glanced at Cornelia, who nodded. "Only if one of the ladies themselves wants to. I'm not the type who accompanies mindless drones who can't think for themselves."

"I would love to dance!" Williams said quickly. "I have heard of your exploits in battle and I would enjoy the chance to speak with you further."

"Alright then," Link said, clearly displeased. He had been hoping that the two would take the hint and leave him alone. He didn't like the idea of Cornelia going off alone with the emperor, but at this point he knew he had no choice. And so he stood up and took the redhead's offered hand, allowing her to lead him to the dance floor once more.

"So Captain," she said excitedly as they began to dance. "Tell me about your deeds! A warrior with as much skill as yourself must have plenty of tales of glory."

"Well, there's always the Battle of New Zealand," Link said. "My comrades and I faced down Cornelia's entire army with just forty soldiers."

"I've heard rumors of that battle," Williams said. "So it's true?"

"Yup. The rest of the CDF was overseeing the civilian evacuations. A group of forty Black Dogs got cut off, and once we broke through we found ourselves in between the civilians and a massive Britannian army. I think we were outnumbered like two thousand to one. But we held them off for hours and hours and the civilians got out alive."

"That's amazing!" Williams cried. "A mere forty men were able to hold off the entire enemy army, including Princess Cornelia herself! Your people are truly incredible, Captain. May I ask what happened to the forty Black Dogs after the battle?"

"A dozen of us survived," Link muttered. "We lost a lot of good men out there, including my dad and my brother Ryan. Me and my sister got out alive, along with our CO. Hell, the commander got a total of seven thousand kills out there by himself. At one point he was cut off and surrounded. We all thought he was a goner, but next thing we knew that old Grizzly of his came charging through the enemy lines with a nice new hole in the flank and Brit guts smeared across her nose and fenders."

Williams winced at the rather graphic description. "I am terribly sorry about your family members," she said. "At least they died as proud warriors."

"Yeah," Link said. "They were killed by the best the Brits had, Cornelia herself. Gave her hell before they died, too."

0o0o0

The rest of Cobra Wing, under the command of Second Lieutenant Bates, made land right at the Britannian refueling depot. Before the base guards could react the three Thunderbolt scouts let loose a torrent of chaingun fire and missiles all directed at the energy filler storage building. The building exploded with enough force to kick the small ships back a few feet. A number of secondary explosions went off throughout the base, adding the the chaos. A number of Vincent-Ward knightmares finally came online and attempted to stop the Black Dogs, but they were reduced to scrap metal when the CDF pilots turned their guns on them.

With explosions ripping through the base the trio of scouts turned and fled, leaving destruction and disorder in their wake.

This madness gave Miranda the chance to sneak into the city's sewer system undetected. Her hovertank slipped quickly through the tunnels, her path lit by the ship's twin headlights. The Chinese woman that had come with Cornelia, Xianglin, directed her through the sewers from the bridge of the Midnight Angel. She met no resistance as she went and soon she reached the entrance to the prison access tunnel. It was here that her first taste of battle came.

Two anti-knightmare turrets had been set up outside the tunnel, and as the intruding Thunderbolt approached they turned on her. Her guns tore through the operator compartments of the turrets, leaving them utterly useless and splattering blood and gore across the cement walls of the tunnel. She continued on, delving deeper into the tunnel. Her path was impeded once again, however, when she reached the outer wall of the prison itself. In her headlights she found a heavy cement wall with a single door meant for people, not vehicles. The tunnel had flared out around her into a parking area, and there were a few armored vehicles here. There were also a number of foot soldiers guarding the place, but her guns made quick work of them.

"Looks like I'm hoofing it from here," she radioed back to the Midnight Angel.

She landed her Thunderbolt at the door, pulled the key from the ignition on her left, and popped the canopy. She took her pulse rifle with her and started towards the door. As she passed one of the soldiers, who wasn't entirely dead yet, grabbed at her ankle. His reward for such an action was her boot crushing his skull, sending him to the afterlife once and for all. The pilot searched the man's body and found a keycard, which she used on the reader beside the door. The door opened immediately and a hail of gunfire poured through.

"Fuckin' great," Miranda muttered. She pulled a red-and-black cylinder from a pouch on her belt, pulled the pin, and tossed the device through the doorway while standing off to the side. The grenade detonated, spewing globs of blazing napalm throughout the room. The few soldiers who weren't killed in the explosion were set ablaze, creating enough confusion for Miranda to charge around the door and lay into them with her rifle. The weapon sent purplish-white lances of concentrated microwave energy through the room, knocking small but lethal holes in the enemies that still stood.

Once she was sure it was clear she stepped into the security checkpoint, a room consisting of a desk, several locked racks of weapons, and a few consoles. She passed through the next door and found herself in another tunnel. There were no guards here so she made good time down the passage.

At the end of the tunnel she found herself in a circular room. The room was lined with cells and stretched upwards at least thirty stories, if not more. There were elevator platforms around the room that could take her to the higher levels. Miranda glanced around, looking for a prisoner that matched the description she had been given of the objective. Finding none, she went for the nearest elevator. The lift refused to respond at first, but Miranda noticed a card reader and gave her 'borrowed' keycard a try. A red light on the control panel turned green. This time the controls responded when she tried them and the lift raised to the next floor.

It wasn't until the fifth floor that Miranda found her target. In a cell further down the balcony that encircled the room on this floor was a female who matched the description perfectly. Miranda stood outside the cell for a moment, baffled by what she was seeing.

She had expected to find a princess along the lines of Cornelia sitting in the cell. What she found, however, was a young girl of roughly fifteen or sixteen. The girl was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. Her eyes were closed but she seemed to notice Miranda's presence all the same.

"Is someone there?" she called in a quiet, nervous voice.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Miranda grumbled. She pulled a roll of what looked like thick red tape from another pouch on her armor along with a cigarette lighter and a bundle of wire. She wrapped some of the tape around several bars on the girl's cell, careful to put some of the wire underneath each piece of tape. She then twisted the wires together and lit them all at once with the lighter. The wires, a special high-speed fuse cord, burnt quickly towards the tape. When the flames reached the tape it promptly ignited, melting into a super-hot goop. The goop burnt through the bars of the cell easily and a large section fell away. Miranda stepped through, stowing her supplies once more. "You're Nunnally, right?"

"Yes," the girl said, looking towards Miranda despite the fact that her eyes were still closed. "Who are you?"

"I'm getting you out of here," Miranda said sharply. "Come on."

"I can't move," Nunnally said sadly. "I've been blind and crippled since I was little."

Rolling her eyes and mentally cursing herself for not remembering Cornelia telling her this beforehand, Miranda stooped down and picked up the young princess. She threw the girl over her shoulder and carried her the way she had been trained to pull wounded comrades out of battle. Holding her with her free hand, she made her way back to the elevator. The princess covered her head with her hands, clearly terrified by this new development.

At this point the prison guards had realized that something was wrong. More Britannian soldiers in their ominous gray armor were coming down on other lifts. At the sight of the encroaching Black Dog they opened fire, but thankfully their assault rifles weren't nearly as accurate as a CDF pulse rifle. Miranda clipped off a few clean headshots one-handed then ran for the lift. Rather than using the slow device, however, she simply jumped over the guardrail.

Every CDF pilot was equipped with a backpack unit consisting of a multi-role flight system. The system consisted of a miniature V-thruster engine, a fuel tank, and a pair of two-foot wings. These wings normally laid flush with the sides of the pack, but when activated they folded out and upward. The underside of these wings had thrust nozzles connected to the engine to direct the exhaust and the force of the engine. As Miranda jumped the wings unfolded and the engine fired up, beginning to idle. As she approached the ground she pushed the throttle open using the controls built into her right glove. The wing jets fired, slowing her fall and bringing her to a gentle landing. She took off running the moment her boots touched the ground, her wings folding up as she went. She charged into the exit tunnel as shots impacted all around her. One caught her in the arm that held Nunnally but she did her best to ignore it, fighting back a cry of pain.

There were no guards left alive to stop her from breaking through the security checkpoint so she continued onward, passing through the last door and into the parking area. Her Thunderbolt was where she left it, the canopy open and waiting. She climbed into the cockpit and settled a very terrified Nunnally on her lap. The hovertank fired right up and lifted off of the ground, her engine humming eagerly.

"Alright, we're out of here," Miranda said as the canopy closed over them. She turned her vehicle around and tore off through the access tunnel and back into the sewers. Nunnally turned around and buried her face in Miranda's chest, wimpering slightly.

0o0o0

While Lincoln and Williams danced, Schniezel and Cornelia were having a dance of their own. The pair moved gracefully across the dance floor, chatting in low voices as they did so.

"So how did you come to be in the company of a nation that no one knew existed?" Schniezel asked curiously.

"It was Lelouche," Cornelia said. In his dying moments he managed to record a message for me, telling me of the existence of the Confederacy and how to find them. I followed his instructions and found them to be accurate. It took some convincing to get them to aid us, but we did it in the end and now we're working hand-in-hand with the Confederacy."

"To bring me down?" Schniezel asked.

"Yes," Cornelia said flatly. "We are all of the mind that the world you are creating is not one we wish to exist. We seek to build a better world, and in the process we will someday have to destroy you, brother."

"So cold," Schniezel said in a mockingly hurt voice. "But do you really thing these Black Dogs can defeat the entire world?"

"I do," Cornelia said. "I have seen these men both in and out of action. They are few but they are strong."

"Then signing a peace treaty is the best path forward for all of us," Schniezel said. He ended the dance and turned towards where Lincoln and Williams were dancing nearby. "Captain, if you could join us?" he called. "It's time for us to begin."

Lincoln nodded then turned to Williams once more. He took her hand and kissed it before returning to Cornelia's side. Just as he was arriving, however, he noticed the Knight of Four returning as well at a run. He had a funny feeling he knew exactly what her hurry was. He slowly undid the buttons on the front of his uniform, preparing for trouble.

"My Lord!" Natalia said as she got close. "The Black Dogs have attacked us! They destroyed a vital refueling station and broke into a government prison. Princess Nunnally is in their hands now!"

Schniezel turned on Cornelia in anger, drawing a pistol from under his coat. Cornelia reacted just as fast, pulling a weapon from where it had been hidden under her shawl. The weapon was a pistol-sized and shaped doubled-barreled, bolt-action shotgun with an eight-round box magazine. It was a weapon commonly used by pirates and crooks, but the Angel had a few on board for risky operations as well. The two Knights nearby also attempted to draw Britannian handguns, only to find Lincoln pulling a pair of high-caliber pistols with a green camo paintjob and a rather bulky construction from under his uniform jacket. The size of the barrels alone were enough to halt the two Knights in their tracks.

"So what now, Cornelia?" he asked. "Is this the gunfight at the OK Corral? Should I start calling you Doc Holiday now?"

"You've betrayed me, Cornelia," Schniezel said angrily. "I brought you here to make peace, but you used it as a method of murder!"

"To hell with your so-called peace," Cornelia snapped. "You wanted to negotiate with a gun to Nunnally's head! And betrayal? Need I remind you who shot me?"

"Princess," Link said in a warning tone. "My fingers are getting itchy."

At that moment a voice issued from the speaker hidden in one of the earrings Cornelia wore. "Cornelia, this is Harris. We have Nunnally onboard. Mission accomplished."

"Very well then," Cornelia said, stowing her weapon under her shawl once more. "Now that neither side has an unfair advantage, I will gladly hear your negotiations brother." She motioned for Lincoln to put away his weapons and he did so, glaring at Schniezel.

"It won't be that simple anymore," Schniezel said, putting his own gun away. The two Knights took their hands away from their guns as well. "Your people have attacked us twice..."

"Which should send a clear message," Cornelia cut him off. "We, the Confederacy, will not be looked down upon or mistreated. We will have a fair treaty, or you and your people will face our wrath!"

"Very well then," Schniezel said in defeat. "What would you suggest?"

"A peace treaty. No concessions, no deals." Cornelia glared up at her older brother. "Only a simple, lasting agreement to end all hostilities."

"Then I will demand one thing," Schniezel said. "I will restore your station as Second Princess, and you must marry a prominent member of the Confederacy."

"I will not!" Cornelia said indignantly, taking a step back. Unbeknownst to anyone but herself and Schniezel, the princess had never even kissed a man, let alone considered marriage.

"There needs to be something to keep the peace between our two nations and mend the hurts that both sides have caused." Schniezel said calmly. "If you do not approve, I could always begin a F.L.E.I.J.A. assault against the Confederacy. I do not need to know their exact location. It is fairly obvious that they are hiding in Antartica. I can obliterate the entire continent with a single word." He chuckled. "Looks like I still have an unfair advantage to trump your 'legendary' undefeated army."

Cornelia thought about this for a moment. She knew she had been defeated. There was no way to escape from this place without a gunfight that they couldn't possibly win, and if the treaty wasn't signed they wouldn't be allowed to leave. There was only one option.

"Very well," Cornelia said, her own voice sounding defeated at this point. "But I will choose my husband from the Confederacy."

"Of course," Schniezel said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Cornelia turned to Lincoln, pointing at him. "This man, the honored war hero Captain Lincoln McHale, the only living man to ever defeat me in battle, is the man I choose to be my husband. He is a respected member of the Confederacy and one of their greatest warriors." She glared at Schneizel. "Is this acceptable?"

"No it fucking isn't!" Lincoln snarled. He stepped forward and grabbed Cornelia by the arm, dragging her away from the others. The two Knights made moves to stop him but Schniezel raised a hand, prompting the two women to cease their actions. Lincoln pulled Cornelia out of earshot and turned to her angrily. "Are you fucking insane?!" he growled in a low voice. "There's no fucking way I'm marrying you!"

"If you do not then this treaty ends, we both die, and the war continues," Cornelia said calmly. "I don't want to see the Confederacy disappear and your people need to buy time to prepare against the Britannians. This is the only way, Lincoln."

"If you think I'm just going to marry you-" Link began, but Cornelia cut him off.

"You will, because there is no other way to save your people!" She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I'm not happy with it either, but it is the only way to do this. And of your people, there is no one else that I would choose to be wed to. So please do this, Lincoln McHale. Do this for me and for your nation."

Link glared at the princess for a moment then sighed, tilting his head back. "Fine," he grumbled. "But you had _damn_ well better not make me regret this." The two returned to Schniezel, who had been waiting patiently and watching them. "I'll do it," Lincoln said. "I accept this marriage proposal. But I want your word that you will keep any and all non-Confederate ships, aircraft, and individuals away from Antarctica. My people only want to be left alone and uninfluenced by Britannia."

"Very well," Schniezel said. "I will set to work drawing up the treaty immediately. Obviously, the two of you will not be permitted to leave here until the treaty is signed and the wedding has been held."

"Fine," Cornelia said. "But Captain McHale will have to report to his superiors about this, and we will require complete privacy. We are to be married, after all."

"I will make it happen," Schniezel said, turning to leave. "Please enjoy the rest of the party until I have prepared your lodgings for you."

As the Britannian emperor left Link couldn't help but notice a smirk on the man's lips. Something was wrong here, and while he hated the thought of being married to his worst enemy he knew that the only way to stay close enough to his new brother-in-law was to play the part of the betrothed man. He turned to Cornelia as the two Knights left as well. "This had better work, Princess," he said.

"It will," Cornelia responded. "I promise."

0o0o0

Minutes later, Miranda Caldwell was in the communications room of the Midnight Angel. Beside her stood General Harris, and the two of them were listening to Lincoln's transmission from the APC.

"You can't be serious!" Miranda shouted, slamming her fist down on the console before her. "That Brit bitch... I swear I'll kill her!"

"It'll be alright sis," Link said. "I'm going to stick around here and play my part. Hopefully I can learn something that will help us. For now, focus on getting ready for battle."

"You think the war will break out again?" Harris asked. He knew the outcome already, but he wanted to hear Lincoln's opinion. He had always valued the opinions of his men, especially the ones that had served under him in New Zealand. Link in particular was one of the general's most trusted men.

"Yes sir," Link replied. "But with this treaty we can buy ourselves time. It's your choice how to proceed, but if it were me I'd work with the guys we got from Tokyo. Build up our forces, develop new weapons and defenses, figure out anything we can to give ourselves a chance against that fucking Damocles thing. And when the time is right, we strike."

"Very well, McHale," Harris said. "I'll expect regular reports. Good luck, soldier."

"Thank you sir!"

Miranda waited as the general left then leaned closer to the console. "So how are you handling this?" she asked.

"I'm kinda pissed still," Link admitted. "But I've gotta do what I've gotta do. If marrying that murdering bitch will help us win this thing then I'm gonna to do it."

"Just promise me you'll come back alive," Miranda said. "I can't stand the thought of losing you too, brother."

"Don't worry," Link said confidently. "I'll be back before you know it. We're gonna end this thing and we'll all go home. Besides, you and David owe me some nieces and nephews. There's no way in hell I'm gonna miss out on that."

"You'd better not," Miranda said, laughing. "I want them to know their uncle, the hero who fought Cornelia li Britannia and won during the battle of New Zealand."

"They will," Link said. "I promise." He paused for a moment. "I'd better go, sis. Take care of the squad, alright?"

"Will do," Miranda said quietly. "I'll be waiting for your victorious return." The comm cut off at that point. Miranda stayed where she was as the line went dead. She leaned further forward and rested her head against the console. "God protect you, brother," she whispered sadly.

_(A/N: And that's three! I dunno when the next chapter will be out, but it'll have some good stuffs! A treaty, a wedding, and maybe a tender reunion between sisters? And there's always a chance for battle if either side gets restless. Stay tuned, and until next time stay groovy!)_


End file.
